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L    MOHI 


TXANStWEO  FftOM  THE  GEtMAll  tT 

CHAPMAN  GOLEMAM 


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QUEEN   HORTENSE 


^  £i&  pictnu  of  t\)t  Napoleonic  €ra 


BY 

L.    MOHLBACH    /^<i.ec.W 

OP  ramCB  BUGENB  AND  HIS  TIMES.  JOSEPH  It  AMD  f 
MERCHANT   OF   BERUN,    ETC 


TRANSLATED    FROM   THE    GERMAN   BY 

CHAPMAN   COLEMAN 


NEW   YORK 

THE  McCLURE  CO. 

MCMX 


COFTBIOHT,  1870, 

Bt  d.  applbton  and  compant. 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK  L 
DATS  OF  OHJLDHOOD  AND   OF  TEE  REVOLUTIOir, 

OHAPTXS  nJOm 

I.— Days  of  Childhood 1 

n.— The  Prophecy 1* 

in. — Consequences  of  the  Revolution 22 

rV. — General  Bonaparte 82 

v.— The  Marriage 8» 

VI. — Bonaparte  in  Italy  ...•••••  46 

VII. — Vicissitudes  of  Destiny 50 

VnL— Bonaparte's  Return  from  Egypt OT 

BOOK  n. 
THE  QUEEN  OF  HOLLAND. 

I.— A  First  Love 66 

II.— Louis  Bonaparte  and  Duroc  ......  75 

HI. — Consul  and  King 84 

rV.— The  Calumny 92 

v.— King  or  Emperor 108 

VI.— Napoleon's  Heir 114 

VII.— Premonitions 121 

VIIL-The  Divorce 125 

IX— The  King  of  Holland 181 

X.— Junot,  the  Duke  d'Abrantes 140 

XL— Louis  Napoleon  as  a  Vender  of  VioleU       .       .       .147 

XII.— The  Days  of  Misfortune 154 

XIII.— The  Allies  in  Paris !•• 

M  f585 


IV  CONTENTS. 

OHAPTBB  PASS 

XrV. — Correspondence  between   the   Queen  and  Louise  de 

Cochelet 169 

XV. — Queen  Hortense  and  the  Emperor  Alexander     .        .  182 

XVI.— The  New  Uncles 186 

XVII.— Death  of  the  Empress  Josephine 189 

BOOK  III. 

THE  RESTORATION. 

I.— The  Return  of  the  Bourbons         .....  197 

II.— The  Bourbons  and  the  Bonapartes       ....  308 

III.— Madame  de  Stael     .        .        .        ...        .        .        ,216 

IV.— Madame  de  Stael's  Return  to  Paris     .        .        .        .229 

v.— Madame  de  Stael's  Visit  to  Queen  Hortense       .        .  232 

VI.— The  Old  and  New  Era 241 

VII.— King  Louis  XVIII 248 

VIIL — The  Drawing-room  of  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu    .        .  255 

IX.— The  Burial  of  Louis  XVI.  and  his  Wife      .                .  263 

X. — Napoleon's  Return  from  Elba        .....  267 

XI. — Louis  XVI II. 's  Departure  and  Napoleon's  Arrival      .  273 

XII.— The  Hundred  Days 277 

XIII.— Napoleon's  Last  Adieu  .......  282 

BOOK  IV. 

THE  DUCHESS  OF  ST  LEU, 

I.— The  Banishment  of  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu  ...  292 

11.— Louis  Napoleon  as  a  Child 299 

III.— The  Revolution  of  1830 307 

IV.— The  Revolution  in  Rome  and  the  Sons  of  Hortense .  313 

v.— The  Death  of  Prince  Napoleon     .•        ...  321 

VI.— The  Flight  from  Italy 329 

VII.— The  Pilgrimage 338 

VIIL— Louis  Philippe  and  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu        .        .  347 

IX. — The  Departure  of  the  Duchess  from  Paris  .        .        .  354 

X. — Pilgrimage  through  France 360 

XI.— Fragment  from  the  Memoirs  of  Queen  Hortense .        .  368 

XII.— The  Pilgrim 375 

XIII.— Conclusion 381 


QUEEN  HORTENSE, 


BOOK  I. 

DAYS  OF  CHILDHOOD  AND   OF  THE 
REVOLUTION, 


CHAPTEK  I.    ,..  '; 

DAYS   OF   CHILDHOOD.' 

"  One  moment  of  bliss  is  not  too  dearly  bought  with 
death,"  says  our  great  German  poet,  and  he  may  be  right; 
but  a  moment  of  bliss  purchased  with  a  long  lifetime  full 
of  trial  and  suffering  is  far  too  costly. 

And  when  did  it  come  for  her,  this  "  moment  of 
bliss  ? "  When  could  Hortense  Beauharnais,  in  speaking 
of  herself,  declare,  "I  am  happy?  Now,  let  suffering 
and  sorrow  come  upon  me,  if  they  will ;  I  have  tasted 
felicity,  and,  in  the  memories  it  has  left  me,  it  is  im- 
perishable and  eternal  I " 

Much,  very  much,  had  this  daughter  of  an  empress 
and  mother  of  an  emperor  to  endure. 

In  her  earliest  youth  she  had  been  made  familiar  with 
misfortune  and  with  tears ;  and  in  her  later  life,  as  maid' 

en,  wife,  and  mother,  she  was  not  spared. 

\ 


2  QUEEN  HORTENSB. 

A  touchingly-beautif  ul  figure  amid  the  drama  of  the 
Napoleonic  days  was  this  gentle  and  yet  high-spirited 
queen,  who,  when  she  had  descended  from  the  throne 
and  had  ceased  to  be  a  sovereign,  exhausted  and  weary 
of  life,  found  refuge  at  length  in  the  grave,  yet  still  sur- 
vived among  us  as  a  queen — no  longer,  indeed,  a  queen 
of  nations,  but  the  Queen  of  Flowers. 

The  flowers  have  retained  their  remembrance  of  Jo- 
sephine's beautiful  daughter  ;  they  did  not,  like  so  many 
of  her  own  race,  deny  her  when  she  was  no  longer  the 
I;  ;'tiaughteK  bfc  ihp  all-powerful  emperor,  but  merely  the 
]  daiflghter*  of*  the .  i[  exile."  Among  the  flowers  the  lovely 
.'  * :  HoHeiiae  .coiJtrjMj^  to  live  on,  and  Gavami,  the  great 
poet  of  the  floral  realm,  has  reared  to  her,  as  Hortensia, 
the  Flower  Queen,  an  enchanting  monument,  in  his 
^^  Fleura  AnimeesP  Upon  a  mound  of  Hortensias  rests 
the  image  of  the  Queen  Hortense,  and,  in  the  far  dis- 
tance, like  the  limnings  of  a  half-forgotten  dream,  are 
seen  the  towers  and  domes  of  Paris.  Farther  in  the 
foreground  lies  the  grave  of  Hortense,  with  the  carved 
likeness  of  the  queenly  sister  of  the  flowers.  Loneliness 
reigns  around  the  spot,  but  above  it,  in  the  air,  hovers 
the  imperial  eagle.  The  imperial  mantle,  studded  with 
its  golden  bees,  undulates  behind  him,  like  the  train  of  a 
comet ;  the  dark-red  ribbon  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  with 
the  golden  cross,  hangs  around  his  neck,  and  in  his  beak 
he  bears  a  full-blooming  branch  of  the  crown  imperial. 

It  is  a  page  of  world -renowned  history  that  this 
charming  picture  of  Gavarni's  conjures  up  before  us— 


DAYS  OP  CHILDHOOD.  3 

an  historical  pageant  that  sweeps  by  us  in  wondrous  fan- 
tastic forms  of  light  and  shadow,  when  we  scan  the  life 
of  Queen  Hortense  with  searching  gaze,  and  meditate 
upon  her  destiny.  She  had  known  all  the  grandeur  and 
splendor  of  earth,  and  had  seen  them  all  crumble  again  to 
dost  No,  not  all !  Her  ballads  and  poems  remain,  for 
genius  needs  no  diadem  to  be  immortal. 

When  Hortense  ceased  to  be  a  queen  by  the  grace  of 
Napoleon,  she  none  the  less  continued  to  be  a  poetess 
*^  by  the  grace  of  God."  Her  poems  are  sympathetic  and 
charming,  full  of  tender  plaintiveness  and  full  of  impas- 
sioned warmth,  which,  however,  in  no  instance  oversteps 
the  bounds  of  womanly  gentleness.  Her  musical  com- 
positions, too,  are  equally  melodious  and  attractive  to 
the  heart.  Who  does  not  know  the  song,  "  Va  fen, 
Gtierrier,^^  which  Hortense  wrote  and  set  to  music,  and 
then,  at  Napoleon's  request,  converted  into  a  military 
march?  The  soldiers  of  France  once  left  their  native 
land,  in  those  days,  to  the  sound  of  this  march,  to  carry 
the  French  eagles  to  Kussia;  and  to  the  same  warlike 
harmony  they  have  marched  forth  more  recently,  toward 
the  same  distant  destination.  This  ballad,  written  by 
Hortense,  survived.  At  one  time  everybody  sang  it, 
joyously,  aloud.  Then,  when  the  Bourbons  had  returned, 
the  scarred  and  crippled  veterans  of  the  Invalidee 
hummed  it  under  their  breath,  while  they  whispered 
secretly  to  each  other  of  the  glory  of  Za  BeUe  Francs^ 
as  of  a  beautiful  dream  of  youth,  now  gone  forever. 

To-day,  that  song  rings  out  with  power  again  through 


4  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

France,  and  mounts  in  jubilee  to  the  summit  of  tlie  col- 
umn on  the  Place  Yendome.  The  bronze  visage  of  the 
emperor  seems  to  melt  into  a  smile  as  these  tremulous 
billows  of  melody  go  sweeping  around  his  brow,  and  the 
Hortensias  on  the  queen's  grave  raise  dreamingly  their 
heads  of  bloom,  in  which  the  dews  of  heaven,  or  the  tears 
of  the  departed  one,  glisten  like  rarest  gems,  and  seem  to 
look  forth  lovingly  and  hsten  to  this  ditty,  which  now  for 
France  has  won  so  holy  a  significance — holy  because  it  is 
the  master -chant  of  a  religion  which  all  men  and  all 
nations  should  revere — the  "  reHgion  of  our  memories.'' 
Thus,  this  "  Ya  fen,  Guerri&r^'^  which  France  now  sings, 
resounds  over  the  grave  of  the  queen,  like  a  salute  of 
honor  over  the  last  resting-place  of  some  brave  soldier. 

She  had  much  to  contend  with  —  this  hapless  and 
amiable  queen — but  she  ever  proved  firm,  and  ever  re- 
tained one  kind  of  courage  that  belongs  to  woman — the 
courage  to  smile  through  her  tears.  Her  father  perished 
on  the  scaffold;  her  mother,  the  doubly-dethroned  em- 
press, died  of  a  broken  heart ;  her  step-father,  the  Em- 
peror Napoleon,  pined  away,  liked  a  caged  lion,  on  a  lone 
rock  in  the  sea !  Her  whole  family — all  the  dethroned 
kings  and  queens — went  wandering  about  as  fugitives 
and  pariahs,  banished  from  their  country,  and  scarcely 
wringing  from  the  clemency  of  those  to  whom  they  had 
been  clement,  a  little  spot  of  earth,  where,  far  from  the 
bustle  and  intercourse  of  the  world,  they  might  live  in 
quiet  obscurity,  with  their  great  recollections  and  their 
mighty  sorrows.    Their  past  lay  behind  them,  like  a  gilt- 


DAYS  OF  CHILDHOOD.  5 

tering  fairy  tale,  which  no  one  now  believed ;  and  only 
the  present  seemed,  to  men  and  nations,  a  welcome  reality^ 
which  they,  with  envenomed  stings,  were  eager  to  brand 
upon  the  foreheads  of  the  dethroned  Napoleon  race. 

Yet,  despite  all  these  sorrows  and  discouragements,. 
Hortensia  had  the  mental  strength  not  to  hate  her  fellow- 
beings,  but,  on  the  contrary,  to  teach  her  children  to  love 
them  and  do  good  to  them.  The  heart  of  the  dethroned 
queen  bled  from  a  thousand  wounds,  but  she  did  not  allow 
these  wounds  to  stiffen  into  callousness,  nor  her  heart  to- 
harden  under  the  broad  scars  of  sorrow  that  had  ceased 
to  bleed.  She  cherished  her  bereavements  and  her 
wounds,  and  kept  them  open  with  her  tears ;  but,  even 
while  she  suffered  measureless  woes,  it  solaced  her  heart 
to  relieve  the  woes  and  dry  the  tears  of  others.  Thua 
was  her  life  a  constant  charity ;  and  when  she  died  she 
could,  like  the  Empress  Josephine,  say  of  herself,  "I 
have  wept  much,  but  never  have  I  made  others  weep." 

Hortense  was  the  daughter  of  the  Viscount  de  Beau- 
hamais,  who,  against  the  wishes  of  his  relatives,  married 
the  beautiful  Josephine  Tascher  de  la  Pagerie,  a  young 
Creole  lady  of  Martinique.  This  alliance,  which  love 
alone  had  brought  about,  seemed  destined,  nevertheless, 
to  no  happy  issue.  While  both  were  young,  and  both 
inexperienced,  passionate,  and  jealous,  both  lacked  the 
strength  and  energy  requisite  to  restrain  the  wild  im- 
pulses of  their  fiery  temperaments  within  the  cool  and 
tranquil  bounds  of  quiet  married  life.  The  viscount  waa 
too  young  to  be  not  merely  a  lover  and  tender  husband. 


e  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

but  also  a  sober  counsellor  and  cautious  instructor  in  the 
difficult  after-day  of  life ;  and  Josephine  was  too  inno- 
cent, too  artless,  too  sportive  and  genial,  to  avoid  all  those 
things  that  might  give  to  the  watchful  and  hostile  family 
of  her  husband  an  opportunity  for  ill-natured  suspicions, 
which  were  whispered  in  the  viscount's  ear  as  cruel  cer- 
tainties. It  may  readily  be  conceived,  then,  that  such  a 
state  of  things  soon  led  to  violent  scenes  and  bitter  grief. 
Josephine  was  too  beautiful  and  amiable  not  to  attract 
attention  and  admiration  wherever  she  went,  and  she  was 
not  yet  hldsee  and  hackneyed  enough  to  take  no  pleasure 
in  the  court  thus  paid  to  her,  and  the  admiration  so  uni- 
versally shown  her,  nor  even  to  omit  doing  her  part  to 
win  them.  But,  while  she  was  naive  and  innocent  at 
heart,  she  required  of  her  husband  that  these  trifling  out- 
side coquetries  should  not  disquiet  him  nor  render  him 
distrustful,  and  that  he  should  repose  the  most  unshaken 
confidence  in  her.  Her  pride  revolted  against  his  sus- 
picions, as  did  his  jealousy  against  her  seeming  frivolity ; 
and  both  became  quite  willing,  at  last,  to  separate,  not- 
withstanding the  love  they  really  bore  each  other  at  the 
bottom  of  their  hearts,  had  not  their  children  rendered 
such  a  separation  impossible.  These  children  were  a  son, 
Eugene,  and  a  daughter,  Hortense,  four  years  younger 
than  the  boy.  Both  parents  loved  these  children  with 
passionate  tenderness  ;  and  often  when  one  of  the  stormy 
scenes  at  which  we  have  hinted  took  place  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  young  people,  an  imploring  word  from  Eu- 
gene or  a  caress  from  little  Hortense  would  suffice  to 


DAYS  OF  CHILDHOOD.  7 

reconcile  their  father  and  mother,  whose  anger,  after  all, 
was  but  the  result  of  excessive  attachment. 

But  these  domestic  broils  became  more  violent  with 
time,  and  the  moment  arrived  when  Eugene  was  no 
longer  there  to  stand  by  his  little  sister  in  her  efforts  to 
soothe  the  irritation  of  her  parents.  The  viscount  had 
aent  Eugene,  who  was  now  seven  years  of  age,  to  a 
boarding-school;  and  little  Hortense,  quite  disheartened 
by  the  absence  of  her  brother,  had  no  longer  the  means 
or  the  courage  to  allay  the  quarrels  that  raged  between 
her  parents,  but  would  escape  in  terror  and  dismay,  when 
they  broke  out,  to  some  lonely  comer,  and  there  weep 
bitterly  over  a  misfortune,  the  extent  of  which  her  poor 
little  childish  heart  could  not  yet  estimate. 

In  the  midst  of  this  gloomy  and  stormy  period,  the 
young  viscountess  received  a  letter  from  Martinique.  It 
was  from  her  mother,  Madame  Tascher  de  la  Pagerie, 
who  vividly  depicted  to  her  daughter  the  terrors  of  her 
lonely  situation  in  her  huge,  silent  residence,  where  there 
was  no  one  around  her  but  servants  and  slaves,  whose 
singularly  altered  and  insubordinate  manner  had,  of  late, 
alarmed  the  old  lady,  and  filled  her  with  secret  apprehen- 
sions for  the  future.  She,  therefore,  besought  her 
daughter  to  come  to  her,  and  live  with  her,  so  that  she 
might  cheer  the  last  few  years  of  her  mother's  existence 
with  the  bright  presence  of  her  dazzling  youth. 

Josephine  accepted  this  appealing  letter  from  her 
mother  as  a  hint  from  destiny ;  and,  weary  of  her  domes- 
tic wrangles,  and  resolved  to  end  them  forever,  she  took 


3  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

her  little  daughter,  Hortense,  then  scarcely  four  years 
old,  and  with  her  sailed  away  from  France,  to  seek  be- 
yond the  ocean  and  in  her  mother's  arms  the  new  happi- 
ness of  undisturbed  tranquillity. 

But,  at  that  juncture,  tranquillity  had  fled  the  world. 
The  mutterings  and  moanings  of  the  impending  tempest 
could  be  heard  on  all  sides.  A  subterranean  rumbling 
was  audible  throughout  all  lands ;  a  dull  thundering  and 
outcry,  as  though  the  solid  earth  were  about  to  change 
into  one  vast  volcano  —  one  measureless  crater  —  that 
would  dash  to  atoms,  and  entomb,  with  its  blazing  lava- 
streams  and  fiery  cinder-showers,  the  happiness  and  peace 
of  all  humanity.  And,  finally,  this  terrific  crater  did, 
indeed,  open  and  hurl  destruction  and  death  on  all  sides, 
over  the  whole  world,  uprooting,  with  demoniac  fury, 
entire  races  and  nations,  and  silencing  the  merry  laugh 
and  harmless  jest  with  the  overpowering  echoes  of  its 
awful  voice ! 

This  volcano  was  the  revolution.  In  France,  the 
first  and  most  fearful  explosion  of  this  terrific  crater  oc- 
curred, but  the  whole  world  shook  and  heaved  with  it, 
and,  on  all  sides,  the  furious  masses  from  beneath  over- 
flowed on  the  surface,  seeking  to  reverse  the  order  of 
things  and  place  the  lowest  where  the  highest  had  been. 
Even  away  in  Martinique  this  social  earthquake  was  felt, 
which  had  already,  in  France,  flung  out  the  bloody  guil- 
lotine from  its  relentless  crater.  This  guillotine  had  be- 
come the  altar  of  the  so-called  enfranchisement  of  na- 
tions, and  upon  this  altar  the  intoxicated,  unthinking 


DAYS  OF  CHILDHOOD.  9 

masses  offered  up  to  their  new  idol  those  who,  until  then, 
had  been  their  lords  and  masters,  and  by  whose  death 
they  now  believed  that  they  could  purchase  freedom  for 
evermore. 

^'Egalite  !  fratemite  !  liberie  !  "  Such  was  the  bat- 
tle-cry of  this  howling,  murdering  populace.  Such  were 
the  three  words  which  burned  in  blood-red  letters  of  fire 
above  the  guillotine,  and  their  mocking  emblem  was  the 
glittering  axe,  that  flashed  down,  to  sever  from  their  bod- 
ies the  heads  of  the  aristocrats  whom,  in  spite  of  the  new 
religion  represented  in  those  three  words,  they  would  not 
recognize  as  brethren  and  equals,  or  admit  to  the  freedom 
of  life  and  of  opinion.  And  this  battle-cry  of  the  murder- 
ous French  populace  had  penetrated  as  far  as  Martinique, 
where  it  had  aroused  the  slaves  from  their  sullen  obedi- 
ence to  the  point  of  demanding  by  force  that  participa- 
tion in  freedom,  equality,  and  brotherhood,  that  had  so 
long  been  denied  them.  They,  at  last,  rose  everywhere 
in  open  insurrection  against  their  masters,  and  the  fire- 
brands which  they  hurled  into  the  dwellings  of  the 
whites  served  as  the  bridal  torches  to  their  espousal  of 
liberty. 

The  house  of  Madame  Tascher  de  la  Pagerie  was  one 
of  the  abodes  in  which  these  firebrands  fell. 

One  night  Josephine  was  awakened  by  the  blinding 
light  of  the  flames,  which  had  already  penetrated  to  her 
chamber.  With  a  shriek  of  terror,  she  sprang  from  her 
bed,  caught  up  little  Hortense  in  her  arms  from  the 
couch  where  the  child  lay  quietly  slumbering,  wrapped 


10  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

her  in  the  bedclothes,  and  rushed,  in  her  night-attire, 
from  the  house.  She  burst,  with  the  lion-like  courage  of 
a  mother,  through  the  shouting,  fighting  crowds  of  sol- 
diers and  blacks  outside,  and  fled,  with  all  the  speed  of 
mortal  terror,  toward  the  harbor.  There  lay  a  French 
vessel,  just  ready  to  weigh  anchor.  An  officer,  who  at 
that  moment  was  stepping  into  the  small  boat  that  was 
to  convey  him  to  the  departing  ship,  saw  this  young 
woman,  as,  holding  her  child  tightly  to  her  bosom,  she 
sank  down,  with  one  last  despairing  cry,  half  inanimate, 
upon  the  beach.  Filled  with  the  deepest  compassion,  he 
hastened  to  her,  and,  raising  both  mother  and  child  in 
his  arms,  he  bore  them  to  his  boat,  which  then  instantly 
put  out  from  land,  and  bounded  away  over  the  billows 
with  its  lovely  burden. 

The  ship  was  soon  reached,  and  Josephine,  still 
tightly  clasping  her  child  to  her  breast,  and  happy  in 
having  saved  this  only  jewel,  climbed  up  the  unsteady 
ladder  to  the  ship's  decks.  Until  this  moment  all  her 
thoughts  remained  concentrated  upon  her  child,  and  it 
was  only  when  she  had  seen  her  little  Hortense  safely 
put  to  bed  in  the  cabin  and  free  from  all  danger — only 
after  she  had  fulfilled  all  the  duties  of  a  mother,  that  the 
woman  revived  in  her  breast,  and  she  cast  shamed  and 
frightened  glances  around  her.  Only  half -clad,  in  light, 
fluttering  night-clothes,  without  any  other  covering  to 
her  beautiful  neck  and  bosom  than  her  superb,  luxuriant 
hair,  which  fell  around  her  and  partly  hid  them,  like  a 
thick  black  veil,  stood  the  young  Viscountess  Josephine 


DAYS  OF  CHILDHOOD.  H 

de  BeauhamaiB,  in  the  midst  of  a  group  of  gazing 
men ! 

However,  some  of  the  ladies  on  the  ship  came  to  her 
aid,  and,  so  soon  as  her  toilet  had  been  snflSciently  im- 
proved, Josephine  eagerly  requested  to  be  taken  back  to 
land,  in  order  that  she  might  fly  to  her  mother's  assist- 
ance. 

But  the  captain  opposed  this  request,  as  he  was  un- 
willing to  give  the  young  fugitive  over  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  the  assassins  who  were  burning  and  massa- 
cring ashore,  and  whose  murderous  yells  could  be  dis- 
tinctly heard  on  board  of  the  vessel.  The  entire  coast,  so 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  looked  like  another  sea — a 
sea,  though,  of  flame  and  smoke,  which  shot  up  its  leap- 
ing billows  in  long  tongues  of  fire  far  against  the  sky. 
It  was  a  terrible,  an  appalling  spectacle ;  and  Josephine 
fled  from  it  to  the  bedside  of  her  little  sleeping  daughter. 
Then,  kneeling  there  by  the  couch  of  her  child,  she  up- 
lifted to  heaven  her  face,  down  which  the  tears  were 
streaming,  and  implored  God  to  spare  her  mother. 

But,  meanwhile,  the  ship  weighed  anchor,  and  sped 
farther  and  farther  away  from  this  blazing  coast. 

Josephine  stood  on  the  deck  and  gazed  back  at  her 
mother's  burning  home,  which  gradually  grew  less  to  her 
sight,  then  glimmered  only  like  a  tiny  star  on  the  distant 
horizon,  and  finally  vanished  altogether.  With  that  last 
ray  her  childhood  and  past  life  had  sunk  forever  in  the 
sea,  and  a  new  world  and  a  new  life  opened  for  both 
mother  and  child.    The  past  was,  like  the  ships  of  Cor> 


12  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

tez,  burned  behind  her ;  yet  it  threw  a  magic  light  far 
away  over  into  her  future,  and  as  Josephine  stood  there 
with  her  little  Hortense  in  her  arms,  and  sent  her  last 
farewell  to  the  island  where  her  early  days  had  been 
spent,  she  bethought  her  of  the  old  mulatto-woman  who 
had  whispered  in  her  ear  one  day : 

"  You  will  go  back  to  France,  and,  ere  long  after 
that,  all  France  will  be  at  your  feet.  You  will  be 
greater  there  than  a  queen." 


CHAPTEK  11. 

THE  PROPHECY. 

It  was  toward  the  close  of  the  year  1Y90  that  Jose- 
phine, with  her  little  daughter,  Hortense,  arrived  in 
Paris  and  took  up  her  residence  in  a  small  dwelling. 
There  she  soon  received  the  intelligence  of  the  rescue 
of  her  mother,  and  of  the  re-establishment  of  peace  in 
Martinique.  In  France,  however,  the  revolution  and  the 
guillotine  still  raged,  and  the  banner  of  the  Reign  of 
Terror — the  red  flag — still  cast  its  bloody  shadow  over 
Paris.  Its  inhabitants  were  terror-stricken ;  no  one  knew 
in  the  evening  that  he  would  still  be  at  liberty  on  the 
following  day,  or  that  he  would  live  to  see  another  sun- 
set. Death  lay  in  wait*  at  every  door,  and  reaped  its 
dread  harvest  in  every  house  and  in  every  family.  In 
the  face  of  these  horrors,  Josephine  forgot  all  her  earher 


THE  PROPHECY.  13 

griefs,  all  tlie  insults  and  humiliations  to  whicli  she  had 
been  subjected  by  her  husband ;  the  old  love  revived  in 
her  breast,  and,  as  it  might  well  be  that  on  the  morrow 
death  would  come  knocking  at  her  own  door,  she  wished 
to  devote  the  present  moment  to  a  reconciliation  with 
her  husband,  and  a  reunion  with  her  son. 

But  all  her  attempts  in  this  direction  were  in  vain. 
The  viscount  had  felt  her  flight  to  Martinique  to  be  too 
grave  an  injury,  too  great  an  insult,  to  be  now  wilHng  to 
consent  to  a  reconciliation  with  his  wife.  Sympathizing 
friends  arranged  a  meeting  between  them,  without,  how- 
ever, previously  informing  the  viscount  of  their  design. 
His  anger  was  therefore  great  when,  on  entering  the  par- 
lor of  Count  Montmorin,  in  response  to  that  gentleman's 
invitation,  he  found  there  the  wife  he  had  so  obstinately 
and  wrathfully  avoided.  He  was  about  to  retire  hastily, 
when  a  charming  child  rushed  forward,  greeted  him  ten- 
derly in  silvery  tones,  and  threw  herself  into  his  arms. 
The  viscount  was  now  powerless  to  fly ;  he  pressed  his 
child,  his  Hortense,  to  his  heart,  and  when  the  child, 
with  a  winning  smile,  entreated  him  to  kiss  her  mamma 
as  he  had  kissed  her ;  when  he  saw  the  beautiful  counte- 
nance of  Josephine  wet  with  tears;  when  he  heard  his 
father's  voice  saying,  "  My  son,  reconcile  yourself  with 
my  daughter  I  Josephine  is  my  daughter,  and  I  would 
not  call  her  so  if  she  were  unworthy,"  and  when  he  saw 
his  handsome  son,  Eugene,  gazing  at  him  wistfully,  his 
head  resting  on  his  mother's  shoulder,  his  heart  relented. 
Tiftading  little  Hortense  by  the  hand,  he  stepped  forward 


14  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

to  his  wife,  and,  with  a  loud  cry  of  joy  and  a  blissful 
greeting  of  love,  Josephine  sank  on  his  bosom. 

Peace  was  re-established,  and  husband  and  wife  were 
now  united  in  a  closer  bond  of  love  than  ever  before. 
The  storms  seemed  to  have  spent  their  rage,  and  the 
heaven  of  their  happiness  was  clear  and  cloudless.  But 
this  heaven  was  soon  to  be  overcast  with  the  black  shadow 
of  the  revolution. 

Yiscount  Beauharnais,  returned  by  the  nobility  of 
Blois  to  the  new  legislative  body,  the  Estates-General,  re- 
signed this  position,  in  order  to  serve  his  country  with 
his  sword  instead  of  his  tongue.  With  the  rank  of  ad- 
jutant-general, he  repaired  to  the  Army  of  the  North, 
accompanied  by  Josephine's  blessings  and  tears.  A  dread 
premonition  told  her  that  she  would  never  see  the  gen- 
eral again,  and  this  premonition  did  not  deceive  her. 
The  spirit  of  anarchy  and  insurrection  not  only  raged 
among  the  people  of  Paris,  but  also  in  the  army.  The 
aristocrats,  who  were  given  over  to  the  guillotine  in 
Paris,  were  also  regarded  with  distrust  and  hatred  in  the 
army,  and  Yiscount  Beauharnais,  who,  for  his  gallantry 
on  the  battle-field  of  Soissons,  had  been  promoted  to  the 
position  of  commanding  general,  was  accused  by  his  own 
officers  of  being  an  enemy  of  France  and  of  the  new 
order  of  things.  He  was  arrested,  taken  back  to  Paris, 
and  thrown  into  the  prison  of  the  Luxembourg,  where  so 
many  other  victims  of  the  revolution  lay  in  confinement. 

The  sad  intelligence  of  her  husband's  misfortune  soon 
reached  Josephine,  and  aroused  her  love  to  energetic 


THE  PROPHECY.  15 

action  in  his  behalf.  She  mentally  vowed  to  liberate  her 
husband,  the  father  of  her  children,  or  to  die  with  him. 
She  courageously  confronted  all  dangers,  all  suspicions, 
and  was  happy  when  she  found  him  in  his  prison,  where 
she  visited  him,  whispering  words  of  consolation  and 
hope  in  his  ear. 

But  at  that  time  love  and  fidelity  were  also  capital 
crimes,  and  Josephine's  guilt  was  twofold :  first,  because 
she  was  an  aristocrat  herself,  and  secondly,  because  she 
loved  and  wept  for  the  fate  of  an  aristocrat,  and  an  al- 
leged traitor  to  his  country.  Josephine  was  arrested  and 
thrown  into  the  prison  of  St.  Pelagic. 

Eugene  and  Hortense  were  now  little  better  than 
orphans,  for  the  prisoners  of  the  Luxembourg  and  St. 
Pelagic,  at  that  time,  only  left  their  prisons  to  mount  the 
scaffold.  Alone,  deprived  of  all  help,  avoided  by  all 
whom  they  had  once  known  and  loved,  the  two  children 
were  threatened  with  misery,  want,  and  even  with  hun- 
ger, for  the  estate  of  their  parents  had  been  confiscated, 
and,  in  the  same  hour  in  which  Josephine  was  conducted 
to  prison,  the  entrances  and  doors  of  their  dwelling  were 
sealed,  and  the  poor  children  left  to  find  a  sheltering  roof 
for  themselves.  But  yet  they  were  not  entirely  helpless, 
not  quite  friendless,  for  a  friend  of  Josephine,  a  Madame 
Holstein,  had  the  courage  to  come  to  the  rescue,  and 
take  the  children  into  her  own  family. 

But  it  was  necessary  to  go  to  work  cautiously  and 
wisely,  in  order  to  avoid  exciting  the  hatred  and  venge- 
ance of  those  who,  coming  from  the  scum  of  the  peo- 


16  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

pie,  were  now  the  rulers  of  France.  An  imprudent 
word,  a  look,  might  suffice  to  cast  suspicion  upon,  and 
render  up  to  the  guillotine,  this  good  Madame  Holstein, 
this  courageous  friend  of  the  two  children.  It  was  in 
itself  a  capital  crime  that  she  had  taken  the  children  of 
the  accused  into  her  house,  and  it  was  therefore  necessary 
to  adopt  every  means  of  conciliating  the  authorities.  It 
was  thought  necessary  that  Hortense  should,  in  company 
with  her  protectress,  attend  the  festivals  and  patriotic 
processions,  that  were  renewed  at  every  decade  in  honor 
of  the  one  and  indivisible  republic,  but  she  was  never  re- 
quired to  take  an  active  part  in  these  celebrations.  She 
was  not  considered  worthy  to  figure  among  the  daughters 
of  the  people ;  she  had  not  yet  been  forgiven  for  being 
the  daughter  of  a  viscount,  of  an  imprisoned  ci-devcmt. 
Eugene  had  been  apprenticed  to  a  carpenter,  and  the  son 
of  the  viscount  was  now  often  seen  walking  through  the 
streets  in  a  blouse,  carrying  a  board  on  his  shoulder  or  a 
saw  under  his  arm. 

While  the  children  of  the  accused  were  thus  enjoying 
temporary  security,  the  future  of  their  parents  was  grow- 
ing darker  and  darker,  and  not  only  the  life  of  the  gen- 
eral, but  also  that  of  his  wife,  was  now  seriously  endan- 
gered. Josephine  had  been  removed  from  the  prison  of 
St.  Pelagic  to  that  of  the  Carmelites,  and  this  brought 
her  a  step  nearer  the  scaffold.  But  she  did  not  tremble 
for  herself,  she  thought  only  of  her  children  and  her 
husband ;  she  wrote  affectionate  letters  to  the  former, 
which  she  bribed  her  jailer  to  forward  to  their  destina- 


THE  PROPHECY.  17 

tion,  but  all  her  efforts  to  place  herself  in  communication 
with  her  husband  were  abortive.  One  day  she  received 
the  fearful  intelligence  that  her  husband  had  just  been 
conducted  before  the  revolutionary  tribunal.  Josephine 
waited  for  further  intelhgence  in  an  agony  of  suspense. 
Had  this  tribunal  acquitted  her  husband,  or  had  it  con- 
demned him  to  death  ?  Was  he  already  free,  or  was  he 
free  in  a  higher  sense — was  he  dead  ?  If  he  were  free, 
he  would  have  found  means  to  inform  her  of  the  fact; 
and  if  he  were  dead,  his  name  would  certainly  have  been 
mentioned  in  the  list  of  the  condemned.  In  this  agony 
of  suspense,  Josephine  passed  the  long  day.  Night  came, 
but  brought  no  rest  for  her  and  her  companions  in  misery 
— the  other  occupants  of  the  prison — who  also  looked 
death  in  the  face,  and  who  watched  with  her  throughout 
the  long  night. 

The  society  assembled  in  this  prison  was  brilliant  and 
select.  There  were  the  Dowager  Duchess  de  Choiseul, 
the  Viscountess  de  Maille,  whose  seventeen-years-old 
daughter  had  just  been  guillotined ;  there  was  the  Mar- 
quise de  Cr6qui,  the  intellectual  lady  who  has  often  been 
called  the  last  marquise  of  the  cmcien  regvme,  and  who 
in  her  witty  memoirs  wrote  the  French  history  of  the 
eighteenth  century  as  viewed  from  an  aristocratic  stand- 
point. There  was  Abb6  Texier,  who,  when  the  revolu- 
tionists threatened  him  with  the  lantern,  because  he  had 
refused  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  new  consti- 
tution, replied :  "  Will  you  see  any  better  after  having 
hung  me  to  the  lantern  ? "    And  there  was  yet  another, 


IS  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

a  M.  Duvivier,  a  pupil  of  Cagliostro,  who,  like  his  mas- 
ter, could  read  the  future,  and  with  the  assistance  of  a 
decanter  full  of  water  and  a  "  dove,"  that  is,  an  innocent 
young  girl  of  less  than  seven,  could  solve  the  mysteries 
of  fate. 

To  him,  to  the  Grand  Cophta,  Josephine  now  ad- 
dressed herself  after  this  day  of  dread  uncertainty,  and 
demanded  information  of  the  fate  of  her  husband. 

In  the  stillness  of  the  night  the  gloomy,  desolate  hall 
of  the  prison  now  presented  a  strange  aspect.  The  jailer, 
bribed  with  an  assignat  of  fifty  francs,  then  worth  only 
forty  sous,  however,  had  consented  that  his  little  six- 
years-old  daughter  should  serve  the  Grand  Cophta  as 
"  dove,"  and  had  made  all  other  preparations.  A  table 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  hall,  on  which  was  a  decanter 
filled  with  clear,  fresh  water,  around  which  were  three 
candles  in  the  form  of  a  triangle,  and  placed  as  near  the 
decanter  as  possible,  in  order  that  the  dove  should  be 
able  to  see  the  better.  The  little  girl,  just  aroused  from 
sleep  and  brought  from  her  bed  in  her  night-gown,  sat 
on  a  chair  close  to  the  table,  and  behind  her  stood  the 
earnest,  sombre  .figure  of  the  Grand  Cophta.  Around 
the  table  stood  the  prisoners,  these  duchesses  and  mar- 
quises, these  ladies  of  the  court  of  Yersailles  who  had 
preserved  their  aristocratic  manners  in  the  prison,  and 
were  even  here  so  strictly  observant  of  etiquette,  that 
those  of  them  who  had  enjoyed  the  honor  of  the  tabou- 
ret in  the  Tuileries,  were  here  accorded  the  same  prece* 
dence,  and  all  possible  consideration  shown  them. 


THE  PROPHECY.  19 

On  the  other  side  of  the  table,  in  breathless  suspense, 
her  large,  dark  eyes  fastened  on  the  child  with  a  touch- 
ing expression,  stood  the  unhappy  Josephine,  and,  at 
some  distance  behind  the  ladies,  the  jailer  with  his  wife. 

Now  the  Grand  Cophta  laid  both  hands  on  the  child's 
head  and  cried  in  a  loud  voice,  "  Open  your  eyes  and 
look!" 

The  child  turned  pale  and  shuddered  as  it  fixed  its 
gaze  on  the  decanter. 

"  What  do  you  see  ? "  asked  the  Grand  Cophta.  "  I 
want  you  to  look  into  the  prison  of  General  Beauharnais. 
What  do  you  see  ? " 

"  I  see  a  little  room,"  said  the  child  with  vivacity. 
^*0n  a  cot  lies  a  young  man  who  sleeps;  at  his  side 
stands  another  man,  writing  on  a  sheet  of  paper  that  lies 
on  a  large  book." 

"  Can  you  read  ? " 

"No,  citizen.  Kow  the  man  cuts  off  his  hair,  and 
folds  it  in  the  paper." 

"  The  one  who  sleeps  ? " 

"  No,  the  one  who  was  just  now  writing.  He  is  now 
writing  something  on  the  back  of  the  paper  in  which  he 
wrapped  the  hair ;  now  he  opens  a  little  red  pocket-book, 
and  takes  papers  out  of  it ;  they  are  assignats,  he  counts 
them  and  then  puts  them  back  in  the  pocket-book.  Now 
he  rises  and  walks  softly,  softly." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  softly  i  You  have  not  heard 
the  slightest  noise  as  yet,  have  you  ? " 

"  No,  but  he  walks  through  the  room  on  tiptoe." 


20  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

"  What  do  you  see  now  ? " 

"  He  now  covers  his  face  with  his  hands  and  seems 
to  be  weeping." 

"  But  what  did  he  do  with  his  pocket-book  ? " 

"Ah,  he  has  put  the  pocket  book  and  the  package 
with  the  hair  in  the  pocket  of  the  coat  that  lies  on  the 
sleeping  man's  bed." 

"  Of  what  color  is  this  coat  ? " 

"  I  cannot  see,  exactly ;  it  is  red  or  brown,  lined  with 
blue  silk  and  covered  with  shining  buttons." 

"  That  will  do,"  said  the  Grand  Coplita ;  "  you  can 
go  to  bed,  child." 

He  stooped  down  over  the  child  and  breathed  on  her 
forehead.  The  little  girl  seemed  to  awaken  as  from  a 
trance,  and  hurried  to  her  parents,  who  led  her  from  the 
hall. 

"General  Beauharnais  still  lives!"  said  the  Grand 
Cophta,  addressing  Josephine. 

"  Yes,  he  still  lives,"  cried  she,  sadly,  "  but  he  is  pre- 
paring for  death."  * 

Josephine  was  right.  A  few  days  later  Duchess 
d'Anville  received  a  package  and  a  letter.  It  was  sent 
to  her  by  a  prisoner  in  La  Force,  named  De  Legrois. 
He  had  occupied  the  same  cell  with  General  Beauharnais 
and  had  found  the  package  and  the  letter,  addressed  to 
the  duchess,  in  his  pocket  on  the  morning  of  the  execu- 
tion of  the  general. 

♦  This  scene  is  exactly  as  represented  by  the  Marquise  de  Crequi, 
who  was  present  and  relates  it  in  her  memoirs,  vol.  vi.,  p.  238. 


THE  PROPHECY.  21 

In  this  letter  the  general  conjured  Duchess  D'An- 
ville  to  deliver  to  Josephine  the  package  which  con- 
tained his  hair  and  his  last  adieus  to  wife  and  children. 

This  was  the  only  inheritance  which  General  Beau- 
harnais  could  bequeath  to  his  Josephine  and  her  unhappy 
children ! 

Josephine  was  so  agitated  by  the  sight  of  her  hus- 
band's hair  and  his  last  fond  words  of  adieu,  that  she 
fainted  away,  a  stream  of  blood  gushing  from  her  mouth. 

Her  companions  in  misfortune  vied  with  each  other 
in  giving  her  the  most  tender  attention,  and  demanded  of 
the  jailer  that  a  physician  should  be  called. 

"  Why  a  physician !  "  said  the  man,  indifferently, 
"  Death  is  the  best  physician.  He  called  the  general  to- 
day ;  in  a  few  days  he  will  restore  to  him  his  wife." 

This  prophecy  was  almost  verified.  Josephine,  scarce- 
ly recovered  from  her  illness,  received  her  citation  from 
the  Tribunal  of  Terror.  This  was  the  herald  of  certain 
death,  and  she  courageously  prepared  for  the  grave, 
troubled  only  by  thoughts  of  the  children  she  must  leave 
behind. 

A  fortunate  and  unforeseen  occurrence  saved  her. 
The  men  of  the  revolution  had  now  attained  the  summit 
of  their  power,  and,  as  there  was  no  standing  still  for  them, 
they  sank  into  the  abyss  which  themselves  had  digged. 

The  fall  of  Robespierre  opened  the  prisons  and  set  at 
liberty  thousands  of  the  already  condemned  victims  of 
the  revolution. 

Yiscountess  Josephine  left  her  prison;  she  was  re- 


22  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

stored  to  liberty,  and  could  now  hasten  to  her  children, 
but  she  came  back  to  them  as  a  poor  widow,  for  the 
seals  of  the  "  one  and  indivisible  republic  "  were  on  hers 
and  her  children's  property  as  well  as  on  that  of  all  other 
aristocrats. 


CHAPTER  III. 

CONSEQUENCES   OF   THE   REVOLTTTION. 

France  drew  a  breath  of  relief ;  the  Eeign  of  Terror 
was  at  an  end,  and  a  milder  and  more  moderate  govern- 
ment wielded  the  sceptre  over  the  poor  land  that  had  so 
lately  lain  in  the  agonies  of  death.  It  was  no  longer  a 
capital  offence  to  bear  an  aristocratic  name,  to  be  better 
dressed  than  the  scms-culottes,  to  wear  no  Jacobin-cap, 
and  to  be  related  to  the  emigrants.  The  guillotine,  which 
had  ruled  over  Paris  during  two  years  of  blood  and 
tears,  now  rested  from  its  horrid  work,  and  allowed  the 
Parisians  to  think  of  something  else  besides  making  their 
wills  and  preparing  for  death. 

Mindful  of  the  uncertainty  of  the  times,  the  people 
were  disposed  to  make  the  most  of  this  release  from  th^ 
fear  of  immediate  death,  and  to  enjoy  themselves  to  th^ 
utmost  while  they  could. 

They  had  so  long  wept,  that  they  eagerly  desired  to 
laugh  once  more ;  so  long  lived  in  sorrow  and  fear,  that 
they  now  ardently  longed  for  amusement  and  relaxation. 
The  beautiful  women  of  Paris,  who  had  been  dethroned 


CONSEQUENCES  OP  THE  REVOLUTION.  23 

by  the  guillotine,  and  from  whose  hands  the  reins  had 
been  torn,  now  found  the  courage  to  grasp  these  reins 
again,  and  reconquer  the  position  from  which  the  storm- 
wind  of  the  revolution  had  hurled  them. 

Madame  Tallien,  the  all-powerful  wife  of  one  of  the 
five  directors  who  now  swayed  the  destinies  of  France; 
Madame  Recamier,  the  friend  of  all  the  eminent  and  dis- 
tinguished men  of  that  period;  and  Madame  de  Stael, 
the  daughter  of  Necker,  and  the  wife  of  the  ambassador 
of  Sweden,  whose  government  had  recognized  the  re. 
public — these  three  ladies  gave  to  Paris  its  drawing- 
rooms,  its  reunions,  ii^  fetes ^  its  fashions,  and  its  luxury 
All  Paris  had  assumed  a  new  form,  and,  although  tha 
Ohurch  had  not  yet  again  obtained  official  recognition, 
the  belief  in  a  Supreme  Being  was  already  re-established. 
Kobespierre  had  already  been  bold  enough  to  cause  the 
inscription,  "  There  is  a  Supreme  Being,"  to  be  placed 
over  the  altars  of  the  churches  that  had  been  converted 
into  "Temples  of  Reason."  Yes,  there  is  a  Supreme 
Being ;  and  Robespierre,  who  had  first  acknowledged  its 
existence,  was  soon  to  experience  in  himself  that  such 
was  the  case.  Betrayed  by  his  own  associates,  and 
charged  by  them  with  desiring  to  make  himself  dictator, 
and  place  himself  at  the  head  of  the  new  Roman-French 
Republic  as  a  new  Csesar,  Robespierre  fell  a  prey  to  the 
Tribunal  of  Terror  which  he  himself  had  called  into  ex- 
istence. While  engaged  in  the  H6tel  de  Ville  in  signing 
death-sentences  which  were  to  furnish  fresh  victims  to 
the  guillotine,  he  was  arrested  by  the  Jacobins  and  Ka- 


24  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

tional  Guards,  who  had  stormed  the  gates  and  penetrated 
into  the  building,  and  the  attempt  to  blow  out  his  brains 
with  his  pistol  miscarried.  Bleeding,  his  jaw  shattered 
by  the  bullet,  he  was  dragged  before  Fouquier-Tainville 
to  receive  his  sentence,  and  to  be  conducted  thence  to  the 
scaffold.  In  order  that  the  proceeding  should  be  attended 
with  all  formalities,  he  was,  however,  first  conducted  to 
the  Tuileries,  where  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety  was 
then  sitting  in  the  chamber  of  Queen  Marie  Antoinette. 
Into  the  bedchamber  of  the  queen  whom  Kobespierre 
had  brought  to  the  scaffold,  the  bleeding,  half-lifeless 
dictator  was  now  dragged.  Like  a  bundle  of  rags  he  was 
contemptuously  thrown  on  the  large  table  that  stood  in 
the  middle  of  the  room.  Eut  yesterday  Robespierre  had 
been  enthroned  at  this  table  as  almighty  ruler  over  the 
lives  and  possessions  of  all  Frenchmen ;  but  yesterday  he 
had  here  issued  his  decrees  and  signed  the  death-sen- 
tences, that  lay  on  the  table,  unexecuted.  These  papers 
were  now  the  only  salve  the  ghastly,  groaning  man  could 
apply  to  the  wound  in  his  face,  from  which  blood  poured 
in  streams.  The  death-sentences  signed  by  himself  now 
drank  his  own  blood,  and  he  had  nothing  but  a  rag  of  a 
tricolor,  thrown  him  by  a  compassionate  sans-culotte^ 
with  which  to  bind  up  the  great,  gaping  wound  on  his 
head.  As  he  sat  there  in  the  midst  of  the  blood-saturated 
papers,  bleeding,  groaning,  and  complaining,  an  old  Na- 
tional Guard,  with  outstretched  arms,  pointing  to  this 
ghastly  object,  cried:  "Yes,  Eobespierre  was  right 
There  is  a  Supreme  Being  ! " 


CONSEQUENCES  OP  THE  REVOLUTION.  26 

This  period  of  blood  and  terror  was  now  over ;  Kobes- 
pierre  was  dead  ;  Theroigne  de  Mericourt  was  no  longer 
the  Goddess  of  Keason,  and  Mademoiselle  Maillard  no 
longer  Goddess  of  Liberty  and  Virtue.  Women  had 
given  up  representing  divinities,  and  desired  to  be  them- 
selves again,  and  to  rebuild  in  the  drawing-rooms  of  the 
capital,  by  means  of  their  intellect  and  grace,  the  throne 
which  had  gone  down  in  the  revolution. 

Madame  Tallien,  Madame  Kecamier,  and  Madame  de 
Stael,  reorganized  society,  and  all  were  anxious  to  obtain 
admission  to  their  parlors.  To  be  sure,  these  entertain- 
ments and  reunions  still  wore  a  sufficiently  strange  and 
fantastic  appearance.  Fashion,  which  had  so  long  been 
compelled  to  give  way  to  the  ca/rmagnole  and  red  cap, 
endeavored  to  avenge  its  long  banishment  by  all  manner 
of  caprices  and  humors,  and  in  doing  so  assumed  a  polit- 
ical, reactionary  aspect.  Coiffures  a  la  Jacohine  were 
now  supplanted  by  coiffures  a  la  victime  and  au  repentir. 
In  order  to  exhibit  one's  taste  for  the  fine  arts,  the  draper- 
ies of  the  statues  of  Greece  and  ancient  Kome  were  now 
worn.  Grecian  fetes  were  given,  at  which  the  black 
soup  of  Lycurgus  was  duly  honored,  and  Koman  feasts 
which,  in  splendor  and  extravagance,  rivalled  those  of 
Lucullus.  These  Roman  feasts  were  particularly  in 
vogue  at  the  palace  of  Luxembourg,  where  the  directors 
of  the  republic  had  now  taken  up  their  residence,  and 
where  Madame  Tallien  exhibited  to  the  new  French  so- 
ciety the  new  wonders  of  luxury  and  fashion.  Too 
proud  to  wear  the  generally-adopted  costume  of  the  Gre- 


26  QUEEN  HORl'ENSE. 

cian  republic,  Madame  Tallien  chose  the  attire  of  the 
Roman  patrician  lady ;  and  the  gold-embroidered  purple 
robes,  and  the  golden  tiara  in  her  black,  shining  hair, 
gave  to  the  charming  and  beautiful  daughter  of  the  re- 
public the  magnificence  of  an  empress.  She  had  also 
drawn  around  her  a  splendid  court.  All  eagerly  pressed 
forward  to  pay  their  respects  to  and  obtain  the  good 
will  of  the  mighty  wife  of  the  mighty  Tallien.  Her 
house  was  the  great  point  of  attraction  to  all  those  who 
occupied  prominent  positions  in  Paris,  or  aspired  to  such. 
"While  in  the  parlors  of  Madame  Recamier,  who,  despite 
the  revolution,  had  remained  a  zealous  royalist,  the  past 
and  the  good  time  of  the  Bourbons  were  whispered  of, 
and  witty  and  often  sanguinary  hon  mots  at  the  expense 
of  the  republic  uttered — while  in  Madame  de  Stael's  par- 
lors art  and  science  had  found  an  asylum — Madame  Tal- 
lien and  court  lived  for  the  present,  and  basked  in  the 
splendor  with  which  she  knew  how  to  invest  the  palace 
of  the  dictators  of  France. 

In  the  mean  while.  Viscountess  Josephine  Beauhar- 
nais  had  been  living,  with  her  children,  in  quiet  retire- 
ment, a  prey  to  sad  memories.  A  day  came,  however, 
when  she  was  compelled  to  tear  herself  from  this  last 
consolation  of  the  unhappy,  the  brooding  over  the  sor- 
rows and  losses  of  the  past,  or  see  her  children  become 
the  victims  of  misery  and  want.  The  time  had  come 
when  she  must  leave  her  retirement,  and  step,  as  a  peti- 
tioner, before  those  who  had  the  power  to  grant,  as  a 
favor,  that  which  was  hers  by  right,  and  restore  to  her,  at 


CONSEQUENCES  OP  THE  REVOLUTION.  27 

least  in  part,  her  sequestered  estate.  Josephine  had 
known  Madame  Tallien  when  she  was  still  Madame  de 
Fontenay,  and  it  now  occurred  to  her  that  she  might 
assist  her  in  her  attempt  to  recover  the  inheritance  of 
her  father.  Madame  Tallien,  the  "  Merveilleuse  de  Lux- 
embourg," also  called  by  her  admirers,  "  Notre-dame  de 
Thermidor,"  felt  much  flattered  at  being  called  on  by  a 
real  viscountess,  who  had  filled  a  distinguished  position 
at  the  court  of  King  Louis.  She  therefore  received  her 
with  great  amiability,  and  endeavored  to  make  the 
charming  and  beautiful  viscountess  her  friend.  But 
Josephine  found  that  estates  were  more  easily  lost  than 
recovered.  The  republic,  one  and  indivisible,  was  always 
ready  to  take,  but  not  to  give ;  and,  even  with  the  kindly 
offices  of  Madame  Tallien  freely  exerted  in  her  behalf,  it 
was  some  time  before  Josephine  succeeded  in  recovering 
her  estate.  In  the  mean  time,  she  really  suffered  want,  and 
she  and  her  children  were  compelled  to  bear  the  hard- 
ships and  mortifications  which  poverty  brings  in  its 
train.  But  true  friends  still  remained  to  her  in  her  mis- 
ery ;  friends  who,  with  true  delicacy,  furnished  her  with 
the  prime  necessities  of  life — with  food  and  clothing  for 
herself  and  children.  In  general,  it  was  characteristic  of 
this  period  that  no  one  felt  humiliated  by  accepting  bene- 
fits of  this  kind  from  his  friends.  Those  who  had  lost 
all  had  not  done  so  through  their  own  fault ;  and  those 
who  had  saved  their  property  out  of  the  general  wreck 
could  not  attribute  their  fortune  to  their  own  merit  or 
wisdom,  but  merely  to  chance.    They  therefore  consid- 


28  QUEEN  HORTENSB. 

ered  it  a  sacred  duty  to  divide  with  those  who  had  been 
less  fortunate;  and  the  latter  would  point  with  pride 
to  the  poverty  which  proved  that  they  had  been  true  to 
themselves  and  principle,  and  accept  what  friendship 
offered.  This  was  the  result  of  a  kind  of  community 
of  property,  to  which  the  revolution  had  given  birth. 
Those  who  had  possessions  considered  it  their  duty  to 
divide  with  those  who  had  not,  and  the  latter  regarded 
this  division  rather  as  a  right  than  as  a  benefit  conferred. 
Josephine  could,  therefore,  accept  the  assistance  of 
her  friends  without  blushing ;  she  could,  with  propriety, 
allow  Madame  de  Montmorin  to  provide  for  the  ward- 
robe of  herself  and  daughter;  and  she  and  Hortense 
<;ould  accept  the  invitation  of  Madame  Dumoulin  to  dine 
with  her  twice  a  week.  There,  at  Madame  Dumoulin's, 
were  assembled,  on  certain  days,  a  number  of  friends, 
who  had  been  robbed  of  their  fortunes  by  the  storms  of 
the  revolution.  Madame  Dumoulin,  the  wife  of  a  rich 
army-contractor,  gave  these  dinners  to  her  friends,  but 
each  guest  was  expected  to  bring  with  him  his  own 
white-bread.  White-bread  was,  at  that  time,  considered 
one  of  the  greatest  dainties ;  for,  there  being  a  scarcity 
of  grain,  a  law  had  been  proclaimed  allotting  to  each  sec- 
tion of  Paris  a  certain  amount  of  bread,  and  providing 
that  no  individual  should  be  entitled  to  purchase  more 
than  two  ounces  daily.  It  had,  therefore,  become  the 
general  custom  to  add  the  following  to  all  invitations  ; 
"You  are  requested  to  bring  your  white  bread  with 
you,"  for  the  reason  that  no  more  than  the  allotted  two 


CONSEQUENCES  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.  29 

ounces  could  be  had  for  money,  and  that  amount  cost 
the  purchaser  dearly.*  Josephine,  however,  had  not 
even  the  money  to  buy  the  portion  allowed  her  by  law. 
An  exception  to  this  rule  was,  however,  made  in  favor 
of  Josephine  and  Hortense ;  and  at  Madame  Dumoulin's 
dinners  the  hostess  always  provided  white  bread  for 
them,  and  for  them  alone  of  all  her  guests.  Viscountess 
Beauharnais  was  soon,  however,  to  be  freed  from  this 
want.  One  day  when  she  had  been  invited  hy  Madame 
Tallien  to  dinner,  and  had  walked  to  the  palace  with 
Hortense,  Tallien  informed  her  that  the  government  had 
favorably  considered  her  petition,  and  was  willing  to 
make  some  concessions  to  the  widow  of  a  true  patriot 
who  had  sealed  his  devotion  to  principle  with  his  blood ; 
that  he  had  procured  an  ordinance  from  the  administra- 
tion of  domains,  pursuant  to  which  the  seals  were  at  once 
to  be  removed  from  her  furniture  and  other  personal 
property,  and  that  the  republic  had  remitted  to  her, 
through  him,  an  order  on  the  treasury  for  her  relief, 
until  the  sequestration  of  her  landed  estates  should  be 
annulled,  which  he  expected  would  soon  take  place. 

Josephine  found  no  words  in  which  to  express  her 
thanks.  She  pressed  her  daughter  to  her  heart  and  cried 
out,  her  face  bathed  in  tears :  "  We  shall  at  last  be 
happy  I  My  children  shall  no  longer  suffer  want ! " 
This  time  the  tears  Josephine  shed  were  tears  of  joy,  the 
first  in  long  years. 

*  M^moiree  de  Monsieur  de  Bourrienne  sur  Napoleon,  etc.,  voL  L, 
p.  80. 


30  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

Care  and  want  were  now  over.  Josephine  could  now 
give  her  children  an  education  suitable  to  their  rank; 
she  could  now  once  more  assume  the  position  in  society 
to  which  her  beauty,  youth,  amiability,  and  name  entitled 
her.  She  no  longer  came  to  Madame  Tallien's  parlor  as 
a  suppliant,  she  was  now  its  ornament,  and  all  were 
eager  to  do  homage  to  the  adored  friend  of  Madame 
Tallien,  to  the  beautiful  and  charming  viscountess.  But 
Josephine  preferred  the  quiet  bliss  of  home-life  in  the 
circle  of  her  children  to  the  brilliant  life  of  society ;  she 
gradually  withdrew  from  the  noisy  circles  of  the  outer 
world,  in  order  that  she  might,  in  peaceful  retirement, 
devote  herself  to  the  cultivation  of  the  hearts  and  minds 
of  her  promising  children. 

Eugene  was  now  a  youth  of  sixteen  years,  and,  as  his 
personal  security  no  longer  required  him  to  deny  .his 
name  and  rank,  he  had  left  his  master's  carpenter-shop, 
and  laid  aside  his  blouse.  He  was  preparing  himself  for 
military  service  under  the  instruction  of  excellent  teach- 
ers, whom  he  astonished  by  his  zeal  and  rare  powers  of 
comprehension.  The  military  renown  and  heroic  deeds 
of  France  filled  him  with  enthusiasm ;  and  one  day,  while 
speaking  with  his  teacher  of  the  deeds  of  Turenne,  Eu- 
gene exclaimed  with  sparkling  eyes  and  glowing  counte- 
nance :  "  I  too  will  become  a  gallant  general,  some  day ! '' 

Hortense,  now  a  girl  of  twelve  years,  lived  with  her 
mother,  who  was  scarcely  thirty  years  old,  in  the  sweet 
companionship  of  an  elder  and  younger  sister.  They 
were  inseparable  companions;   Xature  had  given  Hor- 


CONSEQUENCES  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.  31 

tense  beauty  with  a  lavish  hand ;  her  mother  gave  to  this 
beauty  grace  and  dignity.  Competent  teachers  instructed 
her  daughter's  intellect,  while  the  mother  cultivated  her 
heart.  Early  accustomed  to  care  and  want,  this  child  had 
not  the  giddy,  thoughtless  disposition  usually  character- 
istic of  girls  of  her  age.  She  had  too  early  gained  an  in- 
sight into  the  uncertainty  and  emptiness  of  all  earthly  mag- 
nificence, not  to  appreciate  the  littleness  of  those  things 
upon  which  young  girls  usually  place  so  high  an  estimate. 
Her  thoughts  were  not  occupied  with  the  adornment  of 
her  person,  and  she  did  not  bend  her  young  head  be- 
neath the  yoke  of  capricious  fashion :  for  her,  there  were 
higher  and  nobler  enjoyments,  and  Hortense  was  never 
happier  than  when  her  mother  dispensed  with  her  attend- 
ance at  the  entertainments  at  the  house  of  Madame  Tallien 
or  Madame  Barras,  and  permitted  her  to  remain  at  home, 
to  amuse  herself  with  her  books  and  harp  in  a  better  and 
more  useful,  if  not  in  a  more  agreeable  manner,  than  she 
could  have  done  in  the  brilliant  parlors  to  which  her 
mother  had  repaired.  Early  matured  in  the  school  of 
experience  and  suffering,  the  girl  of  twelve  had  acquired 
a  womanly  earnestness  and  resolution,  and  yet  her  noble 
and  chaste  features  still  wore  the  impress  of  childhood, 
and  in  her  large  blue  eyes  reposed  a  whole  heaven  of 
innocence  and  peace.  When  she  sat  with  her  harp  at 
the  window  in  the  evening  twilight,  the  last  rays  of  the 
setting  sun  gilding  her  sweet  countenance,  and  surround- 
ing as  with  a  halo  her  beautiful  blond  hair,  Josephine 
imagined  she  saw  before  her  one  of  those  angel-forms  of 


32  t^UEEN  HORTENSE. 

innocence  and  love  which  the  poet  and  painter  portray. 
In  a  kind  of  trance  she  listened  to  the  sweet  sounds  and 
melodies  which  Hortense  lured  from  her  harp,  and  ac- 
companied with  the  silvery  tones  of  her  voice,  in  words 
composed  by  herself,  half -childish  prayer,  half  rhapsody 
of  love,  and  revealing  the  most  secret  thoughts  of  the 
fair  young  being  who  stood  on  the  threshold  of  woman- 
hood, bidding  adieu  to  childhood  with  a  blissful  smile, 
and  dreaming  of  the  future. 


CHAPTER  lY. 

GENEEAL  BUONAPARTE. 

"While  Josephine  de  Beauharnais,  after  the  trials  of 
these  long  and  stormy  years,  was  enjoying  blissful  days 
of  quiet  happiness  and  repose,  the  gusts  of  revolution 
kept  bursting  forth  from  time  to  time  in  fits  of  fury,  and 
tranquillity  continued  far  from  being  permanently  re- 
stored. The  clubs,  those  hot-beds  of  the  revolution,  still 
exercised  their  pestilential  influence  over  the  populace  of 
Paris,  and  stirred  the  rude  masses  incessantly  to  fresh 
paroxysms  of  discontent  and  disorder. 

But  already  the  man  had  been  found  who  was  to 
crush  those  wild  masses  in  his  iron  grasp,  and  dash  the 
speakers  of  the  clubs  down  into  the  dust  with  the  flash- 
ing master-glance  of  his  resistless  eye. 

That  man  was  I^aooleon  Buonaparte.    He  was  hardly 


GENERAL  BUONAPARTE.  88 

twenty-nine  years  of  age,  yet  already  all  France  was  talk- 
ing of  him  as  a  hero  crowned  with  laurels,  already  had 
he  trodden  a  brilliant  career  of  victory.  As  commander 
of  a  battalion  he  had  performed  prodigies  of  valor  at  the 
recapture  of  Toulon ;  and  then,  after  being  promoted  to 
the  rank  of  general,  had  gone  to  the  army  in  Italy  on  be- 
half of  the  republic.  Bedecked  with  the  laurels  of  his 
Italian  campaign,  the  young  general  of  five-and-twenty 
had  returned  to  France.  There,  the  government,  being 
still  hostile  and  ill-disposed  toward  him,  wished  to  re- 
move him  from  Paris,  and  send  him  to  La  Vendue  as  a 
brigadier-general.  Buonaparte  declined  this  mission,  be- 
cause he  preferred  remaining  in  the  artillery  service,  and, 
for  that  reason,  the  government  of  the  republic  relieved 
him  of  his  duties  and  put  him  on  half -pay. 

So,  Buonaparte  remained  in  Paris  and  waited.  He 
waited  for  the  brilliant  star  that  was  soon  to  climb  the 
firmament  for  him,  and  shed  the  fulness  of  its  rays  over 
the  whole  world.  Perhaps,  the  secret  voices  which  whis- 
pered in  his  breast  of  a  dazzling  future,  and  a  fabulous 
career  of  military  glory,  had  already  announced  the  rising 
of  his  star. 

So  Buonaparte  lived  on  in  Paris,  and  waited.  He 
there  passed  quiet,  retired,  and  inactive  days,  associating 
with  a  few  devoted  friends  only,  who  aided  him,  with 
delicate  tact,  in  his  restricted  circumstances.  For  Buona- 
parte was  poor ;  he  had  lost  his  limited  means  in  the  tem- 
pests of  the  revolution,  and  all  that  he  possessed  consisted 
of  the  laurels  he  had  won  on  the  battle-field^  and  his  half 


34  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

pay  as  a  brigadier-general.  But,  like  tlie  Yiscountess 
de  Beauharnais,  Kapoleon  had  some  true  friends  wlio 
deemed  it  an  honor  to  receive  him  as  a  guest  at  their 
table,  and  also,  like  Josephine,  he  was  too  poor  to  bring 
his  wheaten  loaf  with  him  to  the  dinners  that  he  at- 
tended, as  was  then  the  prevailing  custom.  He  often 
dined,  in  company  with  his  brother  Louis,  at  the  house  " 
of  his  boyhood's  friend  Bourrienne,  and  his  future  secre- 
tary was  at  that  time  still  his  host,  favored  of  the  gods. 
The  young  general,  instead  of,  like  his  brother,  bringing 
his  wheaten  loaf,  brought  only  his  ration,  which  was  rye- 
bread,  and  this  he  always  abandoned  to  his  brother  Louis, 
who  was  very  fond  of  it,  while  Madame  Bourrienne  took 
care  that  he  should  invariably  find  his  supply  of  white* 
bread  at  his  plate.  She  had  managed  to  get  some  flour 
smuggled  into  Paris  from  her  husband's  estate,  and  had 
white-bread  made  of  it  secretly,  at  the  pastry-cook's. 
Had  this  been  discovered,  it  would  inevitably  have  pre' 
pared  the  way  for  all  of  them  to  the  scaffold. 

Thus,  then,  young  General  Buonaparte,  or,  as  he  sub- 
sequently wrote  the  name  himself,  "  Bonaparte,"  passed 
quiet  days  of  expectation,  hoping  that,  should  the  exist- 
ing government,  so  hostile  to  him,  be  suppressed  by  an- 
other, his  wishes  might  be  at  last  fulfilled.  These  wishes 
were,  by  the  way,  of  a  rather  unpretending  character. 
"If  I  could  only  live  here  quietly,  at  Paris,"  he  once 
remarked  to  his  friend  Bourrienne,  "  and  rent  that  pretty 
little  house  yonder,  opposite  to  my  friends,  and  keep  a 
carriage  besides,  I  should  be  the  happiest  of  men !  " 


GENERAL  BUONAPARTE.  35 

He  was  quite  seriously  entertaining  the  idea  of  rent- 
ing  the  "  pretty  little  house  "  in  common  with  his  uncle 
Fesch,  afterward  the  cardinal,  when  the  important  events 
that  soon  shook  Paris  once  more  prevented  him,  and  the 
famous  13th  Yendemiaire,  1Y95,  again  summoned  the 
young  general  away  from  his  meditations  to  stern  prac- 
tical activity.  It  was  on  that  day,  the  13th  Yendemiaire 
(October  5th),  that  there  came  the  outburst  of  the  storm, 
the  subterranean  rumblings  of  which  had  been  so  long 
perceptible.  The  sections  of  Paris  rose  against  the  Na- 
tional Convention  which  had  given  France  a  new  consti- 
tution, and  so  fixed  it  that  two  thirds  of  the  members  of 
the  Convention  should  reappear  in  the  new  legislative 
body.  The  sections  of  Paris,  however,  were  prepared  to 
accept  the  new  constitution  only  when  it  provided  that 
the  legislative  body  should  spring  from  fresh  elections 
entirely.  The  Convention,  thus  assailed  in  its  ambitious 
hankering  for  power,  was  resolved  to  stand  its  ground, 
and  called  upon  the  representatives  who  commanded  the 
armed  forces,  to  defend  the  republic  of  their  creation. 
Barras  was  appointed  the  first  general  commanding  the 
Army  of  the  Interior,  and  Bonaparte  the  second.  It  was 
not  long  before  a  ferocious  conflict  broke  out  in  the 
streets  between  the  army  and  the  insurgent  sections.  At 
that  time  the  populace  were  not  always  so  ready,  as  they 
have  been  since  then,  to  tear  up  the  pavements  for  barri- 
cades, and  the  revolters,  put  to  flight  by  the  terrible  fire 
and  the  fierce  onset  of  the  artillery,  made  the  Church  of 
8t.  Roch  and  the  Palais  Royal  their  defensive  points ;  but 


36  QUEEN  HORTENSK 

they  were  driven  from  them  also ;  the  struggle  in  the 
streets  recommenced,  and  streams  of  blood  had  to  flow 
ere  it  was  over. 

After  the  lapse  of  two  days  order  was  restored,  and 
Barras  declared  to  the  triumphant  IS'ational  Convention 
that  the  victory  over  the  insurgents  was  chiefly  due  to 
the  comprehensive  and  gallant  conduct  of  G-eneral  Bona- 
parte. 

The  National  Convention,  as  a  token  of  gratitude, 
conferred  upon  the  latter  the  permanent  position  of  sec- 
ond general  of  the  Army  of  the  Interior,  which  had  been 
allotted  to  him  temporarily,  only  on  the  day  of  peril. 
From  that  moment,  Bonaparte  emerged  from  obscurity ; 
his  name  had  risen  above  the  horizon  ! 

He  now  had  a  position,  and  he  could  better  compre- 
hend the  whispering  voices  that  sang  within  his  bosom 
the  proud,  triumphant  song  of  his  future  career.  He 
was  now  already  conscious  that  he  had  a  shining  goal  be- 
fore his  gaze — a  goal  to  which  he  dared  not  yet  assign  a 
title,  that  flitted  about  him  like  a  dazzling  fairy  tale,  and 
which  he  swore  to  make  reality  at  last. 

One  day,  there  came  to  the  headquarters  of  the  young 
general-in-chief  a  young  man  who  very  pressingly  asked 
to  see  him.  Bonaparte  had  him  admitted,  and  the  dig- 
nified form,  the  courageous,  fiery  glance,  the  noble,  hand- 
some countenance  of  the  stranger,  at  once  prepossessed 
him  in  the  young  man's  favor,  and  he  forthwith  ques- 
tioned him  in  gentle,  friendly  tones,  concerning  the  object 
of  his  visit. 


ENERAL  BUONAPARTE.  87 

"  General,"  said  the  young  man,  "  my  name  is  Eugene 
Beauharn^s,  and  I  have  served  the  republic  on  the  Rhine, 
My  father  was  denounced  before  the  Committee  of  Pub- 
lic Safety  as  a  stispect,  and  given  over  to  the  Revolution- 
ary Tribunal,  who  had  him  murdered,  three  days  bef 01% 
the  fall  of  Robespierre." 

*'  Murdered  !  "  exclaimed  Bonaparte,  in  threatening 
tones. 

"  Yes,  general,  murdered ! "  repeated  Eugene,  with 
resolution.  "  I  come  now  to  request,  in  the  name  of  my 
mother,  that  you  will  have  the  kindness  to  bring  your  in- 
fluence to  bear  upon  the  committee,  to  induce  them  to 
give  me  back  my  father's  sword.  I  will  faithfully  use  it 
in  fighting  the  enemies  of  my  country  and  defending  the 
cause  of  the  republic." 

These  proud  and  noble  words  called  up  a  gentle, 
kindly  smile  to  the  stem,  pale  face  of  the  young  general^ 
and  the  fiery  flash  of  his  eyes  grew  softer. 

"  Good  !  young  man,  very  good  ! "  he  said.  "  I  like 
this  spirit,  and  this  filial  tenderness.  The  sword  of  your 
father — the  sword  of  General  Beauharnais — shall  be  re- 
stored to  you.     Wait  1 " 

"With  this,  he  called  one  of  his  adjutants,  and  gave 
him  the  necessary  commands.  A  short  time  only  had 
elapsed,  when  the  adjutant  returned,  bringing  with  him 
the  sword  of  General  Beauharnais. 

Bonaparte  himself  handed  it  to  Eugene.  The  young 
man,  overwhelmed  vdth  strong  emotion,  pressed  the 
weapon — the  sole,  dear  possession  of  his  father — to  his 


38  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

lips  and  to  his  heart,  and  tears  of  sacred  emotion  started 
into  his  eyes. 

Instantly  the  general  stepped  to  his  side,  and  his  slen- 
der white  hand,  which  knew  so  well  how  to  wield  the 
sword,  and  yet  was  as  soft,  as  delicate,  and  as  trans- 
parent as  the  hand  of  a  duchess,  rested  lightly  on  Eu- 
gene's shoulder. 

"  My  young  friend,"  said  he,  in  that  gentle  tone  which 
won  all  hearts  to  him,  "  I  should  be  very  happy  could  I 
do  anything  for  you  or  your  family." 

Eugene  gazed  at  him  with  an  expression  of  childish 
amazement.  "  Good  general ! "  he  managed  to  say ;  "  then 
mamma  and  my  sister  will  pray  for  you." 

This  ingenuousness  made  the  general  smile  ;  andj, 
with  a  friendly  nod,  he  desired  Eugene  to  offer  hia 
respects  to  his  mother,  and  to  call  upon  him  soon 
again. 

This  meeting  of  Eugene  and  General  Bonaparte  was 
the  commencement  of  the  acquaintanceship  between 
Bonaparte  and  Josephine.  The  sword  of  the  guillotined 
General  Beauharnais  placed  an  imperial  crown  upon  the 
head  of  his  widow,  and  adorned  the  brows  of  his  son  and 
his  daughter  with  royal  diadems. 


THE  MARRIAGE.  39 

CHAPTER  Y. 

THE   MARRTAGE. 

A  FEW  days  after  this  interview  between  Bonaparte 
and  Eugene,  Josephine  met  Bonaparte  at  one  of  the 
brilliant  soirees  given  by  Barras,  the  first  general-in-chief . 
She  asked  Barras  to  introduce  her  to  the  young  general, 
and  then,  in  her  usual  frank  manner,  utterly  the  opposite 
of  all  prudery,  yet  none  the  less  delicate  and  decorous, 
extending  her  hand  to  Bonaparte,  she  thanked  him,  with 
the  tender  warmth  of  a  mother,  for  the  friendliness  and 
kindness  he  had  manifested  to  her  son. 

The  general  looked  with  wondering  admiration  at  this 
young  and  beautiful  woman,  who  claimed  to  be  the 
mother  of  a  lad  grown  up  to  manhood.  Her  enchanting 
face  beamed  with  youth  and  beauty,  and  a  sea  of  warmth 
and  passion  streamed  from  her  large,  dark  eyes,  while  the 
gentle,  love-enticing  smile  that  played  around  her  mouth 
revealed  the  tender  feminine  gentleness  and  amiability  of 
her  disposition.  Bonaparte  had  never  mastered  the  art 
of  flattering  women  in  the  light,  frivolous  style  of  the 
fashionable  coxcomb ;  and  when  he  attempted  it  his  com- 
pliments were  frequently  of  so  unusual  and  startling  a 
character  that  they  might  just  as  well  contain  an  affront 
as  a  tribute  of  eulogy. 

"  Ah !  ah !  How  striking  that  looks ! "  he  once  said, 
wliile  he  was  emperor,  to  the  charming  Duchess  de  Chey- 
reuse.     **  What  remarkable  red  hair  you  have  1 " 


40  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

"  Possibly  so,  sire,"  she  replied,  "  but  this  is  the  first 
time  that  a  man  ever  told  me  so." 

And  the  duchess  was  right ;  for  her  hair  was  not  red, 
but  of  a  very  handsome  blond.* 

To  another  lady,  whose  round,  white  arms  pleased 
him,  he  once  said :  "  Ah,  good  Heavens,  what  red  arms 
you  have ! "  Then,  again,  to  another :  "  What  beautiful 
hair  you  have ;  but  what  an  ugly  head-dress  that  is ! 
Who  could  have  put  it  up  for  you  in  such  ridiculous 
style  ? " 

Bonaparte,  as  I  have  said,  did  not  know  how  to  compli- 
ment women  with  words ;  but  Josephine  well  understood 
the  flattering  language  that  his  eyes  addressed  to  her. 
She  knew  that  she  had,  in  that  very  hour,  conquered  the 
bold  young  lion,  and  she  felt  proud  and  happy  at  the 
thought;  for  the  unusually  imposing  appearance  of  the 
young  hero  had  awakened  her  own  heart,  which  she  had 
thocight  was  dead,  to  liveher  palpitations. 

From  that  time  forth  they  saw  each  other  more  fre- 
quently, and,  ere  long,  Josephine  heard  from  Bonaparte's 
own  lips  the  glowing  confession  of  his  love.  She  recip- 
rocated it,  and  promised  him  her  hand.  In  vain  her 
powerful  friends,  Tallien  and  Barras,  endeavored  to  dis- 
suade her  from  marrying  this  young,  penniless  general ; 
in  vain  did  they  remind  her  that  he  might  be  killed  in 
the  very  next  battle,  and  that  she  might  thus  again  be 

*  The  Duchess  de  Chevreuse  was  shortly  afterward  banished  to 
Tours,  because  she  refused  to  serve  as  a  lady  of  honor  to  the  Queen  of 
Spain. 


THE  MARRIAGE,  41 

left  a  reduced  widow.  Josephine  shook  her  handsome 
curls,  with  a  peculiar  smile.  Perhaps  she  was  thinking 
Oi  the  prophecy  of  the  negress  at  Martinique;  perhaps 
she  had  read  in  the  fiery  glances  of  Bonaparte's  eye,  and 
on  his  broad,  thoughtful  brow,  that  he  might  be  the  very 
man  to  bring  that  prophecy  to  its  consummation;  per- 
haps she  loved  him  ardently  enough  to  prefer  an  humble 
lot,  when  shared  with  him,  to  any  richer  or  more  brilliant 
alliance.  The  representations  of  her  friends  did  not 
frighten  her  away,  and  she  remained  firm  in  her  deter- 
mination to  become  the  wife  of  the  young  general,  poor 
as  he  was.  Their  wedding-day  was  fixed,  and  both  has- 
tened with  joyous  impatience  to  make  their  modest  little 
preparations  for  their  new  housekeeping  establishment. 
Yet  Bonaparte  had  not  been  able  to  complete  his  dream 
of  happiness;  he  possessed  neither  house  nor  carriage, 
and  Josephine,  too,  was  without  an  equipage. 

Thus  both  of  them  often  had  to  content  themselves 
with  going  on  foot  through  the  streets,  and  it  may  be 
that,  in  this  halcyon  period  of  their  felicity,  they  re- 
garded the  circumstance  rather  as  a  favor  than  as  a  scurvy 
trick  of  Fortune.  Their  tender  and  confidential  com- 
munications were  not  disturbed  by  the  loud  rattle  of  the 
wheels,  and  they  were  not  obliged  to  interrupt  their 
sweet  interchange  of  sentiment  while  getting  into  and 
out  of  a  vehicle.  Arm-in-arm,  they  strolled  together 
along  the  promenades,  he  smiling  proudly  when  the 
passers-by  broke  out  in  spontaneous  exclamations  of  de- 
light at  Josephine's  beauty,  and  she  happy  and  exultant 
< 


42  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

as  she  overlieard  the  whispered  admiration  and  respect 
with  which  the  multitude  everywhere  greeted  Bonaparte, 
as  she  pressed  with  the  general  through  the  throng. 

One  day,  Bonaparte  accompanied  the  viscountess  on  a 
visit  to  Ragideau,  the  smallest  man  but  the  greatest  law- 
yer in  Paris.  He  had  been  the  business  attorney  of  the 
Beauharnais  family  for  a  long  time,  and  Josephine  now 
wished  to  withdraw  from  his  hands,  for  her  own  dis- 
posal, a  sum  of  money  belonging  to  her  that  had  been 
deposited  with  him.  Bonaparte  remained  in  the  ante- 
room while  Josephine  went  into  the  adjoining  apartment^ 
which  was  Ragideau's  office. 

"  I  have  come  to  tell  you  that  I  am  going  to  marry 
again,"  said  Josephine,  with  her  winning  smile,  to  Eagi- 
deau. 

The  little  attorney  gave  a  friendly  nod,  as  he  replied : 
"  You  do  well,  and  I  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart,, 
viscountess,  for  I  am  satisfied  that  you  have  made  no 
other  than  a  worthy  choice." 

"Undoubtedly,  a  very  worthy  choice,"  exclaimed 
Josephine,  with  the  proud  and  happy  look  of  a  person 
really  in  love.  "My  future  husband  is  General  Bona- 
parte ! " 

The  little  great  man  (of  a  lawyer)  fairly  started  with 
alarm.  "  How  ? "  said  he,  "  You ! — the  Viscountess  Beau- 
harnais, you — ^marry  this  little  General  Bonaparte,  this 
general  of  the  republic,  which  has  already  deposed  him 
once,  and  may  depose  him  again  to-morrow,  and  throw 
him  back  into  insignificance  ? " 


THE  MARRIAGE.  4$ 

Josephine's  only  reply  was  this :  "  I  love  him." 

"Yes,  you  love  him,  now,"  exclaimed  Ragideau, 
warmly.  "  But  you  are  wrong  in  marrying  him,  and  you 
will,  one  day,  rue  it.  You  are  committing  a  folly,  vis- 
countess, for  you  want  to  marry  a  man  who  has  nothing 
but  his  hat  and  his  sword." 

"  But  who  also  has  a  future,"  said  Josephine,  gayly, 
and  then,  turning  the  conversation,  she  began  to  speak  of 
the  practical  matters  that  had  brought  her  thither. 

"When  her  business  with  the  notary  had  been  con- 
cluded, Josephine  returned  to  the  anteroom  where  Bona- 
parte was  waiting  for  her.  He  came,  smiling,  to  meet 
her,  but,  at  the  same  moment,  he  gave  the  notary,  who 
was  with  her,  so  fierce  and  wrathful  a  glance  that  the 
latter  shrank  back  in  consternation.  Josephine  also  re- 
marked that  Bonaparte's  countenance  was  paler  that 
day  than  usual,  and  that  he  was  less  communicative  and 
less  disposed  to  chat  with  her;  but  she  had  already 
learned  that  it  was  not  advisable  to  question  him  as  to 
the  cause  of  his  different  moods.  So,  she  kept  silent  on 
that  score,  and  her  cheerfulness  and  amiability  soon 
drove  away  the  clouds  that  had  obscured  the  general's 
brow. 

The  nuptials  of  Bonaparte  and  Josephine  followed, 
on  the  9th  of  March,  1796,  and  the  witnesses,  besides 
Eugene  and  Hortense,  Josephine's  children,  were  Barras, 
Jean  Lemarois,  Tallien,  Calmelet,  and  Leclerq.  The 
marriage-contract  contained,  along  with  the  absolutely 
requisite  facts  of  the  case,  a  very  pleasant  piece  of  flat- 


44  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

tery  for  Josephine,  since,  in  order  to  establish  an  equality 
of  ages  between  the  two  parties,  Bonaparte  had  him- 
self put  down  a  year  older,  and  Josephine  four  years 
younger,  than  they  really  were.  Bonaparte  was  not,  as 
the  contract  states,  born  on  the  5th  of  February,  1Y68, 
but  on  the  15th  of  August,  1769 ;  and  Josephine  not,  as 
the  document  represents,  on  the  23d  of  July,  1767,  but 
on  the  23d  of  June,  1763  * 

Josephine  acknowledged  this  gallant  act  of  her  young 
spouse  in  queenly  fashion,  for  she  brought  him,  as  her 
wedding-gift,  his  appointment  to  the  command  of  the 
Italian  army,  which  Barras  and  Tallien  had  granted  to 
her,  at  her  own  request. 

But,  before  the  young  bridegroom  repaired  to  his 
new  scene  of  activity,  there  to  win  fresh  laurels  and  re- 
nown, he  passed  a  few  happy  weeks  with  his  lovely  wife 
and  his  new  family,  in  the  small  residence  in  the  Rue 
Ohautereine,  which  he  had  purchased  a  short  time  before 
his  marriage,  and  which  Josephine  had  fitted  up  with 
that  elevated  and  refined  good  taste  that  had  always 
distinguished  her. 

One-half  of  Bonaparte's  darling  wish  was  at  length 
fulfilled.  He  had  his  house,  which  was  large  enough  to 
receive  his  friends.  There  was  now  only  a  carriage  to 
be  procured  in  order  to  make  the  general  the  "  happiest 
of  men." 

But,  as  the  wishes  of  men  always  aspire  still  farther 
the  farther  they  advance,  Bonaparte  was  no  longer  con- 
*  Bourrienne,  vol.  i,  p.  350. 


THE   MARRIAGE.  45 

tent  with  the  possession  of  a  small  house  in  Parifi.     He 
now  wanted  an  establishment  in  the  country  also. 

"  Look  me  up  a  little  place  in  your  beautiful  valley 
of  the  Yonne,"  he  wrote  about  this  time  to  Bourrienne, 
who  was  then  living  on  his  property  near  Sens ;  "  and  as 
soon  as  I  get  the  money,  I  will  buy  it.  Then  I  will  re- 
tire to  it.  Now,  don't  forget  that  I  do  not  want  any  of 
the  national  domains."  * 

As  for  the  carriage,  the  peace  of  Campo  Formio 
brought  the  victorious  General  Bonaparte  a  magnificent 
team  of  six  gray  horses,  which  was  a  present  to  the  gen- 
eral of  the  French  Republic  from  the  Emperor  of  Aus- 
tria, who  did  not  dream  that,  scarcely  ten  years  later,  he 
would  have  him  for  a  son-in-law. 

These  superb  grays,  however,  were— excepting  the 
laurels  of  Areola,  Marengo,  and  Mantua,  the  only  spoils 
of  war  that  Bonaparte  brought  back  with  him  from  his 
famous  Italian  campaign — the  only  gift  which  the  gen- 
eral had  not  refused  to  accept. 

It  is  true  that  the  six  grays  could  not  be  very  conven- 
iently hitched  to  a  simple  private  carriage,  but  they  had 
an  imposing  look  attached  to  the  gilded  coach  of  state  in 
which,  a  year  later,  the  first  consul  made  his  solemn  entry 
into  the  Tuileries. 

♦  Bourrieniie,  vol.  i,  p.  108. 


46  QUEEN  HORTENSB. 

CHAPTEK  YL 

BONAPABTE   m   ITALY. 

Josephine,  now  the  wife  of  General  Bonaparte,  had 
but  a  few  weeks  in  which  to  enjoy  her  new  happiness, 
and  then  remained  alone  in  Paris,  doubly  desolate,  be- 
cause she  had  to  be  separated,  not  only  from  her  hus- 
band, but  from  her  children.  Eugene  accompanied  his 
young  step-father  to  Italy,  and  Hortense  went  as  a  pupil 
to  Madame  Campan's  boarding-school.  The  former,  lady- 
in-waiting  to  Queen  Marie  Antoinette,  had,  at  that  time, 
opened  an  establishment  for  the  education  of  young 
ladies,  at  St.  Germain,  and  the  greatest  and  most  emi- 
nent families  of  newly -republicanized  France  liked  to 
send  their  daughters  to  it,  so  that  they  might  learn  from 
the  former  court-lady  the  refined  style  and  manners  of 
old  royalist  times. 

Hortense  was,  therefore,  sent  to  that  boarding-school, 
and  there,  in  the  society  of  her  new  Aunt  Caroline — the 
sister  of  Bonaparte,  and  afterward  Queen  of  I^aples — and 
the  young  Countess  Stephanie  Beauharnais,  her  cousin, 
passed  a  few  happy  years  of  work,  of  varied  study,  and 
of  youthful  maiden-dreams. 

Hortense  devoted  herself  with  iron  diligence,  and  un- 
tiring enthusiasm,  to  her  studies,  which  consisted,  not 
only  in  the  acquisition  of  languages,  in  music,  and  draw- 
ing, history  and  geography,  but  still  more  in  the  master- 
ing the  so-called  hon  ton  and  that  aristocratic  savoi/r  vivre 


BONAPARTE  IN  ITALY.  47 

of  which  Madame  Campan  was  a  very  model.  While 
Hortense  was  thus  receiving  instruction  on  the  harp  from 
the  celebrated  Alvimara,  in  painting  from  Isabey,  dancing 
from  Coulon,  and  singing  from  Lambert,  and  was  playing 
on  the  stage  of  the  amateur  theatre  at  the  boarding-school 
the  parts  of  heroines  and  lady-loves ;  while  she  was  par- 
ticipating in  the  balls  and  concerts  that  Madame  Campan 
gave,  in  order  to  show  off  the  talent  of  her  pupils  to  the 
friends  she  invited  ;  while,  in  a  word,  Hortense  was  thus 
being  trained  up  to  the  accomplishments  of  a  distin- 
guished woman  of  the  world,  she  did  not  dream  how 
useful  all  these  little  details,  so  trivial,  apparently,  at  the 
time,  would  one  day  be  to  her,  and  how  good  a  thing  it 
was  that  she  had  learned  to  play  parts  at  Madame  Cam- 
pan's,  and  to  appear  in  society  as  a  great  lady. 

Meanwhile,  Josephine  was  passing  days  of  gratified 
pride  and  exulting  triumph  at  Paris,  for  the  star  of  her 
hero  was  ascending,  brighter  and  brighter  in  its  efful- 
gence, above  the  horizon ;  the  name  of  Bonaparte  was 
echoing  in  louder  and  louder  volume  through  the  world, 
and  filling  all  Europe  with  a  sort  of  awe-inspired  fear 
and  trembling,  as  the  sea  becomes  agitated  when  the  sun 
begins  to  rise.  Victory  after  victory  came  joyfully  her- 
alded from  Italy,  as  ancient  states  fell  beneath  the  iron 
tread  of  the  victor,  and  new  ones  sprang  into  being.  The 
splendid  old  Eepublic  of  Venice,  once  the  terror  of  the 
whole  world,  the  victorious  Queen  of  the  Adriatic,  had  to 
bow  her  haughty  head,  and  her  diadem  fell  in  fragments 
at  the  feet  of  her  triumphant  conqueror.     The  lion  of 


48  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

St.  Mark's  no  longer  made  mankind  tremble  at  his  angry 
roar,  and  the  slender  monumental  pillars  on  the  Piazzetta 
were  all  that  remained  to  the  shattered  and  fallen  Vene- 
tian Republic  of  her  conquests  in  Candia,  Cyprus,  and 
the  Morea.  But,  from  the  dust  and  ashes  of  the  old  com- 
monwealth, there  arose,  at  Bonaparte's  command,  a  new 
state,  the  Cisalpine  Republic,  as  a  new  and  youthful 
daughter  of  the  French  Republic ;  and,  when  the  last 
Doge  of  Yenice,  Luigi  Manin,  laid  his  peaked  crown  at 
the  feet  of  Bonaparte,  and  then  fainted  away,  another 
Yenetian,  Dandolo,  the  son  of  a  family  that  had  given 
Yenice  the  greatest  and  most  celebrated  of  her  doges, 
stepped  to  the  front  at  the  head  of  the  new  republic — 
that  Dandolo  of  whom  Bonaparte  had  said  that  he  was 
"  a  man." 

"  Good  God ! "  exclaimed  Bonaparte  one  day  to  Bour- 
rienne,  "  how  seldom  one  meets  men  in  the  world !  In 
Italy  there  are  eighteen  millions  of  inhabitants,  but  I 
have  found  only  two  men  among  them  all — Dandolo  and 
Melzi."* 

But,  while  Bonaparte  was  despairing  of  men^  in  the 
very  midst  of  his  victories,  he  cherished  the  warmest, 
most  impassioned  love  for  his  wife,  to  whom  he  almost 
daily  wrote  the  tenderest  and  most  ardent  letters,  the 
answers  to  which  he  awaited  with  the  most  impatient 
longing. 

Josephine's  letters  formed  the  sole  exception  to  a  very 
unusual  and  singular  system  that  Bonaparte  had  adopted 
*  Bourrienne,  vol.  i,  p.  139. 


BONAPARTE  IN   ITALY.  49 

during  a  part  of  his  campaign  in  Italy.  This  was  to  leave 
all  written  communications,  excepting  such  as  came  to 
him  by  special  couriers,  unread  for  three  weeks.  He 
threw  them  all  into  a  large  basket,  and  opened  them  only 
on  the  twenty-first  day  thereafter.  Still,  General  Bona- 
parte was  more  considerate  than  Cardinal  Dubois,  who 
immediately  consigned  M  the  communications  he  re- 
ceived to  the  flames,  unread,  and — while  the  tire  on  his 
hearth  was  consuming  the  paper  on  which,  perchance, 
was  written  the  despairing  appeal  of  a  mother,  imploring 
pardon  for  her  son ;  of  a  disconsolate  wife,  beseeching 
pity  for  her  husband  ;  or  the  application  of  an  ambitious 
statesman,  desiring  promotion — would  point  to  them  with 
a  sardonic  smile,  and  say,  "  There's  my  correspondence ! " 
Bonaparte,  at  least,  gave  the  letters  a  perusal,  three  weeks 
after  they  reached  him,  indeed ;  but  those  three  weeks 
saved  him  and  his  secretary,  Bourrienne,  much  time  and 
labor,  for,  when  they  finally  went  to  work  on  them,  time 
and  circumstances  had  already  disposed  of  four  fifths  of 
them,  and  thus  only  one  fifth  required  answers — a  result 
that  made  Bonaparte  laugh  heartily,  and  filled  him  with 
justifiable  pride  in  what  he  termed  his  "  happy  idea." 

Josephine's  letters,  however,  had  not  an  hour  or  a 
minute  to  wait  ere  they  were  read.  Bonaparte  always 
received  them  with  his  heart  bounding  with  delight,  and 
invariably  answered  them,  in  such  impassioned,  glowing 
language  as  only  his  warm  southern  temperament  could 
suggest,  and  contrasted  with  which  even  Josephine's  mis- 
dves  seemed  a  little  cool  and  passionless. 


60  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

Ere  long  Bonaparte  ceased  to  be  satisfied  with  merely 
getting  letters  from  his  Josephine.  He  desired  to  have 
her,  in  person,  with  him  ;  and  hardly  had  the  tempest  of 
war  begun  to  lull,  ere  the  general  summoned  his  beloved 
to  his  side  at  Milan.  She  obeyed  his  call  with  rapture, 
and  hastened  to  Italy  to  join  him.  Kow  came  proud 
days  of  triumph  and  gratified  affection.  All  Italy  hailed 
Bonaparte  as  the  conquering  hero  ;  all  Italy  did  homage 
to  the  woman  who  bore  his  name,  and  whose  incompara- 
ble fascination  and  amiability,  gracefulness  and  beauty, 
won  all  hearts.  Her  life  now  resembled  a  magnificent, 
glorified,  triumphal  pageant ;  a  dazzling  fairy  festival ;  a 
tale  from  the  "  Arabian  Nights  "  that  had  become  reahty, 
with  Josephine  for  its  enchanted  heroine,  sparkling  with 
stairs,  and  gleaming  with  golden  sunshine. 


CHAPTER  YIL 

VICISSITIJDES   OF   DESTINY. 

Resplendent  was  the  triumphal  procession  with 
which  Bonaparte  made  his  proud  entry  into  Paris,  on 
his  return  from  Italy.  In  the  front  court-yard  of  the 
Luxembourg,  the  palace  occupied  by  the  Corjps  Legislatif, 
was  erected  a  vast  amphitheatre,  in  which  sat  all  the  high 
authorities  of  France  ;  in  the  centre  of  the  amphitheatre 
stood  the  altar  of  the  country,  surmounted  by  three  gigan- 
tic  statues,  representing  Freedom,  Equality,  and  Peace. 


VICISSITUDES  OP  DESTINY.  51 

As  Bonaparte  stepped  into  this  space,  all  the  dense  crowd 
that  occupied  the  seats  of  the  amphitheatre  rose  to  their 
feet,  with  uncovered  heads,  to  hail  the  conqueror  of  Italy, 
and  the  windows  of  the  palace  were  thronged  with  hand- 
somely dressed  ladies,  who  waved  welcome  to  the  young 
hero  with  their  handkerchiefs.  But  suddenly  this  splen- 
did festival  was  marred  by  a  serious  mischance.  An 
officer  of  the  Directory,  who,  the  better  to  satisfy  his 
curiosity,  had  clambered  up  on  the  scaffolding  of  the 
right-side  wing  of  the  palace,  then  undergoing  extension, 
fell  from  it,  and  struck  the  ground  almost  at  IN'apoleon's 
feet.  A  shout  of  terror  burst  almost  simultaneously  from 
a  thousand  throats,  and  the  ladies  turned  pale  and  shrank 
back,  shuddering,  from  the  windows.  The  palace,  which 
a  moment  before  had  exhibited  such  a  wealth  of  adorn- 
ment in  these  living  flowers,  now  stood  there  bare,  with 
empty,  gaping  casements.  A  perceptible  thrill  ran 
through  the  ranks  of  the  Corjps  Legislatif,  and  here 
and  there  the  whisper  passed  that  this  fall  of  an  officer 
portended  the  early  overthrow  of  the  Directory  itself, 
and  that  it,  too,  would  soon,  like  the  unfortunate  victim 
of  the  accident,  be  lying  in  its  death  agonies  at  the  feet 
of  Greneral  Bonaparte. 

But  the  Directory,  nevertheless,  hastened  to  give  the 
victor  of  Areola  new  fetes  every  day ;  and  when  these 
fetes  were  over,  and  Bonaparte,  fatigued  with  the  speech- 
es, the  festivities,  the  toasts,  etc.,  would  be  on  his  way  re- 
turning homeward,  there  was  the  populace  of  Paris,  who 
beset  his  path  in  crowds,  to  greet  him  with  hearty  cheers ; 


52  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

and  these  persistent  friends  he  had  to  recognize,  with 
smiles  and  shakings  of  the  hand,  or  with  a  nod  and  a 
pleasant  glance. 

A  universal  jubilee  of  delight  had  seized  upon  the 
French.  Each  individual  saw  in  Bonaparte  renown  and 
greatness  reflected  on  himself.  Every  one  regarded  him 
as  the  most  brilliant  impersonation  of  his  own  inner  per- 
sonality, and,  therefore,  felt  drawn  toward  him  with  a 
sort  of  reverential  exultation. 

Josephine  gave  herself  up  with  her  whole  soul  to  the 
enjoyment  of  these  glorious  occasions.  While  Bonaparte, 
almost  completely  overwhelmed  and  disturbed,  could  have 
held  aloof  from  these  ovations  of  the  people  of  Paris, 
they,  on  the  contrary,  filled  the  heart  of  his  wife  with 
pride  and  joy.  While  in  the  theatre,  he  shrank  back, 
abashed,  behind  his  wife's  chair  when  the  audience,  learn- 
ing his  presence,  filled  their  noisy  plaudits  and  clamored 
to  have  a  glimpse  at  him,  Josephine  would  thank  the 
crowd  on  his  behalf  with  a  bewitching  smile,  and  eyes 
swelling  with  tears  for  this  proof  of  their  regard,  which 
to  her  seemed  but  a  natural  and  appropriate  tribute  to 
her  Achilles,  her  lion-hearted  hero.  But  Bonaparte  did 
not  allow  himself  to  be  blinded  by  these  demonstrations  ; 
and  one  day,  when  popular  enthusiasm  seemed  as  though 
it  would  never  end,  and  the  crowd  were  untiring  in  their 
cries  of  "  Vive  Bonajparte  !  "  while  Josephine  turned  her 
face  toward  him,  glowing  with  delight,  and  called  out, 
exultingly — "  See,  how  they  love  you,  these  good  people 
of  Paris  ! "  he  replied,  with  an  almost  melancholy  expres- 


VICISSITUDES  OF  DESTINY.  53 

eion,  "  Bah !  the  crowd  would  be  just  as  numerous  and 
noisy  if  they  were  conducting  me  to  the  scaffold  ! " 

However,  these  festivals  and  demonstrations  at  length 
subsided,  and  his  life  resumed  its  more  tranquil  course. 

Bonaparte  could  now  once  more  spend  a  few  secluded 
days  of  rest  and  calm  enjoyment  in  his  (by  this  time  more 
richly-decorated)  dwelling  in  the  Rue  Chautereine,  the 
name  of  which  the  city  authorities  had  changed  to  Rue 
de  la  Yictoire^  in  honor  of  the  conqueror  at  Areola  and 
Marengo.  He  could,  after  so  many  battles  and  triumphs, 
afford  to  repose  a  while  in  the  arms  of  love  and  hap- 
piness. 

Nevertheless,  this  inactivity  soon  began  to  press  heavi- 
ly on  his  restless  spirit.  He  longed  for  new  exploits,  for 
fresh  victories.  He  felt  that  he  was  only  at  the  com- 
mencement, and  not  at  the  end  of  his  conquering  career ; 
he  constantly  heard  ringing  in  his  ears  the  notes  of  the 
battle-clarion,  summoning  him  to  renewed  triumphs  and 
to  other  paths  of  glory.  Love  could  only  delight  his 
heart,  but  could  not  completely  satisfy  it.  Repose  he 
deemed  but  the  beginning  of  death. 

"  If  I  remain  here  inactive  any  longer,  I  am  lost," 
said  he.  " They  retain  the  resemblance  of  nothing  what- 
ever in  Paris ;  one  celebrity  blots  out  another  in  this  great 
Babylon ;  if  I  show  myself  much  oftener  to  the  public, 
they  will  cease  to  look  at  me,  and  if  I  do  not  soon  under- 
take something  new,  they  will  forget  me." 

And  he  did  undertake  something  new,  something 
unprecedented,  that  filled  all  Europe  with  astonishment 


54  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

He  left  the  shores  of  France  with  an  army  to  conquer, 
for  the  French  Kepublic,  that  ancient  land  of  Egypt,  on 
whose  pyramids  the  green  moss  of  long-forgotten  ages 
was  flourishing. 

Josephine  did  not  accompany  him.  She  remained 
behind  in  Paris  ;  but  she  needed  consolation  and  encour- 
agement to  enable  her  to  sustain  this  separation,  which 
Bonaparte  himself  had  confessed  to  her  might  be  just  as 
likely  to  last  six  years  as  six  months.  And  what  could 
afford  better  consolation  to  a  heart  so  tender  as  Jose- 
phine's than  the  presence  of  her  beloved  daughter  ?  She 
had  willingly  given  up  her  son  to  her  husband,  and  he 
had  accompanied  the  latter  to  Egypt,  but  her  daughter 
remained,  and  her  she  would  not  give  up  to  any  one,  not 
even  to  Madame  Campan's  boarding-school. 

Besides,  the  education  of  Hortense  was  now  com- 
pleted. She  who  had  come  to  St.  Germain  as  a  child, 
left  the  boarding-school,  after  two  years'  stay,  a  hand- 
some, blooming  young  lady,  adorned  with  all  the  charms 
of  innocence,  youth,  grace,  and  refinement. 

Although  she  was  now  a  young  lady  of  nearly  sixteen, 
she  had  retained  the  thoughts  and  ways  of  her  childhood. 
Her  heart  was  as  a  white  sheet  of  paper,  on  which  no 
profane  hand  had  ventured  to  write  a  mortal  name.  She 
loved  nothing  beyond  her  mother,  her  brother,  the  fine 
arts,  and  flowers.  She  entertained  a  profound  but  speech- 
less veneration  for  her .  young  step-father.  His  burning 
gaze  made  her  uneasy  and  timorous ;  his  commanding 
voice  made  her  heart  throb  anxiously ;  in  fine,  she  rever- 


VICISSITUDES  OF  DESTINY.  55 

enced  him  with  adoring  but  too  agitated  an  impression  of 
awe  to  find  it  possible  to  love  him.  He  was  for  her  at  all 
times  the  hero,  the  lord  and  master,  the  father  to  whom 
she  owed  implicit  obedience,  but  she  dared  not  love 
him ;  she  could  only  look  up  to  and  honor  him  from  a 
distance. 

Hortense  loved  nothing  but  her  mother,  her  brother, 
the  fine  arts,  and  flowers.  She  still  looked  out,  with  the 
expectant  eyes  of  a  child,  upon  the  world  which  seemed 
80  beautiful  and  inviting  to  her,  and  from  which  she 
hoped  yet  to  obtain  some  grand  dazzling  piece  of  good 
fortune  without  having  any  accurate  idea  in  what  it  was 
to  consist.  She  still  loved  all  mankind,  and  believed  in 
their  truth  and  rectitude.  No  thorn  had  yet  wounded 
her  heart ;  no  disenchantment,  no  bright  illusion  dashed 
to  pieces,  had  yet  left  its  shadow  on  that  clear,  lofty  brow 
of  transparent  whiteness.  The  expression  of  her  large 
blue  eyes  was  still  radiant  and  undimmed,  and  her  laugh 
was  80  clear  and  ringing,  that  it  almost  made  her  mother 
sad  to  hear  it,  for  it  sounded  to  her  like  the  last  echo  of 
some  sweet,  enchanting  song  of  childhood,  and  she  but 
too  well  knew  that  it  would  soon  be  hushed. 

But  Hortense  still  laughed,  still  sang  with  the  birds, 
rivalling  their  melodies ;  the  world  still  lay  before  her 
like  an  early  morning  dream,  and  she  still  hoped  for  the 
rising  of  the  sun. 

Such  was  Hortense  when  her  mother  took  her  from 
Madame  Campan^s  boarding-school,  to  accompany  her  to 
the  baths  of  Plombieres.     But  there  it  was  that  HortenBO 


56  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

came  near  experiencing  the  greatest  sorrow  of  her  life,  in 
nearly  losing  her  mother. 

She  was  with  Josephine  and  some  other  ladies  in  the 
drawing-room  of  the  house  they  occupied  at  Plombieres. 
The  doors  facing  the  balcony  were  open,  to  let  in  the 
warm  summer  air.  Hortense  was  sitting  by  the  window, 
painting  a  nosegay  of  wild  flowers,  that  she  had  gathered 
with  her  own  hands  on  the  hills  of  Plombieres.  Jose- 
phine found  the  atmosphere  of  the  room  too  close,  and 
invited  some  ladies  to  step  out  with  her  upon  the  bal- 
cony. A  moment  afterward  there  was  heard  a  deafening 
crash,  followed  by  piercing  shrieks  of  terror ;  and  when 
Hortense  sprang  in  desperate  fright  to  the  front  en- 
trance, she  found  that  the  balcony  on  which  her  mother 
and  the  other  ladies  had  stood  had  disappeared.  Its 
fastenings  had  given  way,  and  they  had  been  precipitated 
with  it  into  the  street.  Hortense,  in  the  first  impulse  of 
her  distress  and  horror,  would  have  sprung  down  after 
her  beloved  mother,  and  could  only  be  held  back  with 
the  greatest  difficulty.  But  this  time  fate  had  spared 
the  young  girl,  and  refrained  from  darkening  the  pure, 
unclouded  heaven  of  her  youth.  Her  mother  escaped 
with  no  other  injury  than  the  fright,  and  a  slight  wound 
on  her  arm,  while  one  of  the  ladies  had  both  legs  broken. 

Josephine's  time  to  die  had  not  yet  come,  for  the 
prophecy  of  the  fortune-teller  had  not  yet  been  fulfilled. 
Josephine  was,  indeed,  the  wife  of  a  renowned  general, 
but  she  was  not  yet  "  something  more  than  a  queen." 


BONAPARTE'S  RETURN  FROM  EGYPT.  57 

CHAPTER  YIIL 
Bonaparte's  retukn  from  egypt. 

Bonaparte  had  got  back  from  Egypt.  His  victory 
at  Aboukir  had  adorned  his  brows  with  fresh  laurels,  and 
all  France  hailed  the  returning  conqueror  with  plaudits 
of  exulting  pride.  For  the  first  time,  Hortense  was  pres- 
ent at  the  festivities  which  the  city  of  Paris  dedicated 
to  her  step-father ;  for  the  first  time  she  saw  the  homage 
that  men  and  women,  graybeards  and  children  alike,  paid 
to  the  hero  of  Italy  and  Egypt.  These  festivities  and 
this  homage  filled  her  heart  with  a  tremor  of  alarm,  and 
yet,  at  the  same  time,  with  joyous  exultation.  In  the 
midst  of  these  triumphs  and  these  ovations  which  were 
thus  offered  to  her  second  father,  the  young  girl  recalled 
the  prison  in  which  her  mother  had  once  languished,  the 
scaffold  upon  which  the  head  of  her  own  father  had 
fallen ;  and  frequently  when  she  glanced  at  the  rich  gold- 
embroidered  uniform  of  her  brother,  she  reminded  him 
with  a  roguish  smile  of  the  time  when  Eugene  went  in 
a  blue  blouse,  as  a  carpenter's  apprentice,  through  the 
streets  of  Paris  with  a  long  plank  on  his  shoulder. 

These  recollections  of  the  first  terrible  days  of  her 
youth  kept  Hortense  from  feeling  the  pride  and  arro- 
gance of  good  fortune,  preserved  to  her  her  modest,  un- 
assuming tone  of  mind,  prevented  her  from  entertaining 
any  overweening  or  domineering  propensity  in  her  day 

of  prosperity,  or  from  seeming  cast  down  and  hopeless 
6 


68  QUEEN  HORTENSii. 

when  adversity  came.  She  never  lulled  herself  with  the 
idea  of  good  fortune  that  could  not  pass  away,  but  her 
remembrances  kept  her  eyes  wide  open,  and  hence,  when 
misfortune  came,  it  did  not  take  her  by  surprise,  but 
found  her  armed  and  ready  to  confront  it. 

JN'evertheless,  she  drank  in  the  pleasure  of  these 
prosperous  days  in  full  draughts,  delighted  as  she  was  to 
see  the  mother,  of  whom  she  was  so  fond,  surrounded  by 
such  a  halo  of  glory  and  gratified  love ;  and  in  the  name- 
of  her  murdered  father  she  thanked  General  Bonaparte 
with  double  fervor,  from  the  bottom  of  her  heart,  for 
having  been  the  means  of  procuring  for  her  mother^ 
who  had  suffered  so  deeply  in  her  first  wedded  life,  sa 
magnificent  a  glow  of  splendor  and  happiness  in  her  sec- 
ond marriage. 

In  the  mean  while,  new  days  of  storm  and  tumult 
were  at  hand  to  dispel  this  brief  period  of  tranquil  en- 
joyment. A  fresh  revolution  convulsed  all  France,  and, 
ere  long,  Paris  was  divided  into  two  hostile  camps,  burn- 
ing to  begin  the  work  of  mutual  annihilation.  On  one 
side  stood  the  democratic  repubhcans,  who  looked  back 
with  longing  regret  to  the  days  of  terrorism  and  blood- 
shed, perceiving,  as  they  did,  that  tranquillity  and  pro 
tracted  peace  must  soon  wrest  the  reins  of  power  from 
their  grasp,  and  therefore  anxiously  desiring  to  secure 
control  through  the  element  of  intimidation.  This  party 
declared  that  liberty  was  in  danger,  and  the  Constitution 
threatened;  they  summoned  the  sans-culottes  and  the 
loud-mouthed  republicans  of  the  clubs  to  the  armed  de- 


BONAPARTE'S  RETURN  FROM  EGYPT.      69 

fence  of  the  imperilled  country,  and  pointed  with  men- 
acing hands  at  Bonaparte  as  the  man  who  wished  to 
overthrow  the  republic,  and  put  France  once  more  in  the 
bonds  of  servitude. 

On  the  other  side  stood  the  discreet  friends  of  the 
country,  the  republicans  by  compulsion,  who  denounced 
terrorism,  and  had  sworn  fidelity  to  the  republic,  only 
because  it  was  under  tliis  reptile  disguise  alone  that  they 
could  escape  the  threatening  knife  of  the  guillotine.  On 
this  side  were  arrayed  the  men  of  mind,  the  artists  and 
poets  who  hopefully  longed  for  a  new  era,  because  they 
knew  that  the  days  of  terror  and  of  the  tyrannical  demo- 
cratic republic  had  brought  not  merely  human  beings, 
but  also  the  arts  and  sciences,  to  the  scaffold.  With 
them,  too,  were  arrayed  the  merchants  and  artisans,  the 
bankers,  the  business-men,  the  property-owners,  all  of 
whom  wanted  to  see  the  republic  at  least  established 
upon  a  more  moderate  and  quiet  foundation,  in  order  to 
have  confidence  in  its  durability  and  substantial  charac- 
ter, and  to  commence  the  works  of  peace  with  a  better 
assurance  of  success.  And  at  the  head  of  these  moderate 
republicans  stood  Bonaparte. 

The  18th  Brumaire  of  the  year  1Y98  was  the  decisive 
day.  It  was  a  fearful  struggle  that  then  began  afresh — a 
struggle,  however,  in  which  little  blood  was  spilt,  and 
not  men  bnt  principles  were  slaughtered. 

The  Council  of  Elders,  the  Council  of  the  Five 
Hundred,  the  Directory,  and  the  Constitution  of  the  yer.r 
III.,  fell  together,  and  from  the  ruins  of  the  bloody  and 


60  QUEEN  nORTENSE. 

ferocious  democratic  republic  arose  the  moderate,  ra- 
tional republic  of  the  year  1798.  At  its  Jiead  were  the 
three  consuls,  Bonaparte,  Cambaceres,  and  Lebrun. 

On  the  day  following,  the  18th  Brumaire,  these  three 
consuls  entered  the  Luxembourg,  amid  the  plaudits  of 
the  people,  and  slept,  as  conquerors,  in  the  beds  of  the 
Directory  of  yesterday. 

From  that  day  forward  a  new  world  began  to  take 
shape,  and  the  forms  of  etiquette  which,  during  the  as- 
cendency of  the  democratic  republic,  had  slunk  away  out 
of  sight  into  the  darkest  recesses  of  the  Luxembourg  and 
the  Tuileries,  began  to  reappear,  slowly  and  circum- 
spectly, 'tis  true,  in  broad  daylight.  People  were  no 
longer  required,  in  accordance  with  the  spirit  of  equality, 
to  ignore  all  distinctions  of  condition  and  culture,  by  the 
use  'of  the  words  ''  citizen  "  and  ''  citizeness ; "  or,  in  the 
name  of  brotherhood,  to  endure  the  close  familiarities  of 
every  brawling  street  ruffian ;  or,  in  the  name  of  liberty, 
to  let  all  his  own  personal  liberty  and  inclination  be 
trampled  under  foot. 

Etiquette,  as  I  have  said,  crept  forth  from  the  dark 
•corners  again ;  and  the  three  consuls,  who  had  taken  pos- 
session of  the  Luxembourg,  whispered  the  word  "  mon- 
sieur" in  each  other's  ears,  and  greeted  Josephine  and 
her  daughter,  who  were  installed  in  the  apartments  pre^ 
pared  for  them  in  the  palace  on  the  next  day,  with  the 
title  of  *^*madame."  Yet,  only  a  year  earlior^  the  two 
v7ords  "  monsieur "  and  "  madame  "  had  occasioned  re- 
volt in  Paris,  and  brought  about  bloodshed.     A  year 


BONAPARTE'S  RETURN  FROM  EGYPT.      61 

earlier,  Greneral  Augereau  had  promulged  the  stern  order 
of  the  day  in  his  division,  that,  "  whoever  should  use  the 
word  *  monsieur '  or  *  madame,'  orally  or  in  writing,  on 
any  pretext  whatever,  should  be  deprived  of  his  rank, 
and  declared  incapable  of  ever  again  serving  in  the  army 
of  the  republic."  * 

Now,  these  two  proscribed  words  made  their  tri- 
umphant entry,  along  with  the  three  consuls,  into  the 
palace  of  the  Luxembourg,  which  had  been  delivered 
from  its  democratic  tyrants. 

Josephine  was  now,  at  least,  "  Madame "  Bonaparte, 
and  Hortense  was  "Mademoiselle"  Beauharnais.  The 
wife  of  Consul  Bonaparte  now  required  a  larger  retinue 
of  servants,  and  a  more  showy  establishment.  Indeed, 
temerity  could  not  yet  go  so  far  as  to  speak  of  the  court 
of  Madame  Bonaparte  and  the  court  ladies  of  Made- 
moiselle Hortense ;  they  had  still  to  be  content  with  the 
limited  space  of  the  diminutive  Luxembourg,  but  they 
were  soon  to  be  compensated  for  all  this,  and,  if  they 
still  had  to  call  each  other  monsieur  and  madame,  they 
could,  a  few  years  later,  say  "your  highness,"  "your 
majesty,"  and  "  monseigneur,"  in  the  Tuileries. 

The  Luxembourg  Palace  was  soon  found  to  be  too 
small  for  the  joint  residence  of  the  three  consuls,  and 
too  confined  for  the  ambition  of  Bonaparte,  who  could 
not  brook  the  near  approach  of  the  other  two  men  who 
shared  the  supreme  control  of  France  with  him.  Too 
Bxnall  it  was  also  for  the  longings  that  now  spoke  with 
*  Bourrienne,  roL  L,  p.  229, 


62  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

ever  louder  and  stronger  accents  in  his  breast,  and 
pushed  him  farther  and  farther  onward  in  this  path  of 
splendor  and  renown  which,  at  first,  had  seemed  to  him 
but  as  the  magic  mirage  of  his  dreams,  but  which  now 
appeared  as  the  glittering  truth  and  reality  of  his  waking 
hours.  The  Luxembourg  was  then  too  small  for  the 
three  consuls,  but  they  had  to  go  very  circumspectly  and 
carefully  to  work  to  prepare  the  way  to  the  old  royal 
palace  of  the  Bourbons.  It  would  not  do  to  oust  the 
representatives  of  the  people,  who  held  their  sessions 
there,  too  suddenly ;  the  distrustful  republicans  must  not 
be  made  to  apprehend  that  there  was  any  scheme  on  foot 
to  revolutionize  France  back  into  monarchy,  and  to  again 
stifle  the  many-headed  monster  of  the  republic  under  a 
crown  and  a  sceptre.  It  was  necessary,  before  entering 
the  Tuileries,  to  give  the  French  people  proof  that  men 
might  still  be  very  good  republicans,  even  although  they 
might  wish  to  be  housed  in  the  bedchamber  of  a  king. 

Hence,  before  the  three  consuls  transferred  their 
quarters  to  the  Tuileries,  the  royal  palace  had  to  be  trans- 
formed to  a  residence  worthy  of  the  representatives  of 
the  republic.  So,  the  first  move  made  was  to  set  up  a 
handsome  bust  of  the  elder  Brutus — a  war-trophy  of  Bo- 
naparte's, which  he  had  brought  with  him  from  Italy — 
in  one  of  the  galleries  of  the  Tuileries ;  and  then  David 
had  to  carve  out  some  other  statues  of  the  republican 
heroes  of  Greece  and  Rome  and  place  them  in  the  sa- 
loons. A  number  of  democratic  republicans,  who  were 
defeated  and  exiled  on  the  13th  Yendemiaire,  were  per- 


BONAPARTE'S  RETURN  FROM  EGYPT.      63 

mitted  to  return  to  France,  and  news  of  the  death  of 
Washington,  the  noblest  and  wisest  of  all  republicans, 
arriving  just  at  that  time,  Bonaparte  ordered  that  the 
whole  army  should  wear  the  badge  of  mourning  for  ten 
days.  Black  bands  were  worn  on  the  arm,  and  sable 
streamers  waved  from  the  standards,  in  honor  of  the 
deceased  republican  hero. 

However,  when  these  ten  days  were  past,  and  France 
and  her  army  had  sufficiently  expressed  their  regret,  the 
three  consuls  entered  the  Tuileries  through  the  grand 
portal,  on  the  two  sides  of  which  towered  aloft  two  lib- 
erty-poles that  still  bore  the  old  inscription  of  the  repub- 
lic of  1792.  On  the  tree  to  the  right  was  the  legend 
"  August  10,  1792,"  and  on  the  one  to  the  left,  "  Koyalty 
in  France  is  overthrown  and  will  never  rise  again."  It 
was  between  these  two  significant  symbols  that  Bona- 
parte first  strode  into  the  Tuileries.  It  was  a  very  long 
and  imposing  procession  of  carriages  which  moved  that 
day  toward  the  palace,  through  the  streets  of  the  capital. 
They  only  lacked  the  outward  pomp  and  magnificence 
which  rendered  the  l&tter /etes  of  the  empire  so  remark- 
able. With  the  exception  of  the  splendid  vehicle  in 
which  the  three  consuls  rode,  and  which  was  drawn  by 
the  six  grays  presented  by  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  there 
were  but  few  good  equipages  to  be  seen.  France  of  the 
new  day  had  not  had  the  opportunity  to  build  any  state- 
coaches,  and  those  of  old  France  had  been  too  shamefully 
misused  to  admit  of  their  ever  serving  again;  for  it 
would  be  out  of  the  question  to  employ,  in  this  solemn 


64  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

procession  of  the  three  consuls,  the  state-carriages  of  the 
old  aristocracy,  that  had  served  as  the  vehicles  in  which 
the  democratic  republic  had  transported  dead  dogs  to 
their  place  of  deposit.  Such  had  been  the  fact  in  the 
September  days  of  the  year  1793.. 

The  unclaimed  dogs  of  the  fugitive  or  slaughtered 
aristocracy  at  that  time  wandered  without  masters,  by 
thousands,  through  the  streets  and  slaked  their  thirst 
with  the  blood  which  flowed  down  from  the  guillotine 
and  dyed  the  ground  with  the  purple  of  the  new  system 
of  popular  liberty. 

The  smell  of  the  fresh  blood  and  the  ghastly  suste- 
nance which  the  guillotine  yielded  them  had  restored  the 
animals  to  their  original  savage  propensities,  and  hence 
those  who  had  been  so  fortunate  as  to  escape  the  mur- 
derous axe  of  the  scms-culottes  had  now  to  apprehend  the 
danger  of  falling  a  victim  to  the  sharp  teeth  of  these 
wild  blood-hounds  ;  and  as  the  ferocious  brutes  knew  no 
difference  between  aristocrats  and  republicans,  but  fell 
upon  both  with  equal  fury,  it  became  necessary,  at  last, 
to  annihilate  these  new  foes  of  the  republic.  So,  the 
Champs  Elys6es  were  surrounded  with  troops,  and  the 
dogs  were  driven  into  the  Kue  Koyale  and  the  Place 
Eoyale,  where  they  were  mowed  down  by  musketry. 
On  that  one  day  the  dead  carcasses  of  more  than  three 
thousand  dogs  lay  about  in  the  streets  of  Paris,  and  there 
they  continued  to  fester  for  three  days  longer,  because  a 
dispute  had  arisen  among  the  city  officials  as  to  whose 
duty  it  was  to  remove  them.     At  length  the  Convention 


BONAPARTE'S  RETURN  FROM  EGYPT.     65 

nndertook  that  task,  and  intrusted  the  work  to  repre- 
sentative Gasparin,  who  was  shrewd  enough  to  convert 
the  removal  of  the  dead  animals  into  a  republican  cere- 
mony. These  were  the  dogs  of  the  ci- decants  and 
aristocrats  that  were  to  be  buried,  and  it  was  quite 
proper,  therefore,  that  they  should  receive  aristocratic 
honors. 

Gasparin,  acting  upon  this  idea,  caused  all  the  coaches 
of  the  fugitive  and  massacred  aristocracy  to  be  brought 
from  their  stables,  and  the  carcasses  of  the  dogs  were 
flung  into  these  emblazoned  and  escutcheoned  vehicles 
of  old  France.  Six  grand  coaches  that  had  belonged  to 
the  king  opened  the  procession,  and  the  tails,  heads,  bod- 
ies and  legs  of  the  luckless  quadrupeds  could  be  seen 
behind  the  glittering  glass  panels  heaped  together  in  wild 
disorder.* 

After  this  public  canine  funeral  celebration  of  the 
one  and  indivisible  republic,  the  gilded  state-coaches 
eould  not  be  consistently  used  for  any  human  and  less 
mournful  occasion,  and  hence  it  was  that  the  consular 
procession  to  the  Tuileries  was  so  deficient  in  carriages, 
and  that  public  hacks  on  which  the  numbers  were  de- 
faced had  to  be  employed. 

With  the  entry  of  Bonaparte  into  the  Tuileries  the 
revolution  was  at  an  end.  He  laid  his  victorious  sword 
across  the  gory,  yawning  chasm  which  had  drunk  the 
blood  of  both  aristocrats  and  democrats;  and  of  that 
sword  he  made  a  bridge  over  which  society  might  pass 
*  H^moires  of  the  Marchioness  de  Cr^ui,  toL  yiii.,  p.  10. 


i^e  QUEEN  HOETENSB 

from  one  century  to  the  other,  and  from  the  republic  to 
the  empire. 

As  Bonaparte  was  walking  with  Josephine  and  Hor- 
tense  through  the  Diana  Gallery  on  the  morning  after 
their  entry  into  the  Tuileries,  and  was  with  them  admir- 
ing the  statuary  he  had  caused  to  be  placed  there,  both 
of  the  ladies  possessing  much  artistic  taste,  he  paused  in 
front  of  the  statue  of  the  younger  Brutus,  which  stood 
close  to  the  statue  of  Julius  Caesar.  He  gazed  long  and 
earnestly  at  both  of  the  grave,  solemn  faces;  but,  sud- 
denly, as  though  just  awaking  from  a  deep  dream,  he 
sharply  raised  his  head,  and,  laying  his  hand  with  an 
abrupt  movement  upon  Josephine's  shoulder,  as  he 
looked  up  at  the  statue  of  Brutus  with  blazing,  almost 
menacing  glances,  said  in  a  voice  that  made  the  hearts 
of  both  the  ladies  bound  within  their  bosoms : 

"  It  is  not  enough  to  be  in  the  Tuileries :  one  must 
remain  there.  And  whom  has  not  this  palace  held? 
Even  street  thieves  and  conventionists  have  occupied  it ! 
Did  not  I  see  with  my  own  eyes  how  the  savage  Jaco- 
bins and  cohorts  of  sans-culottes  surrounded  the  palace 
and  led  away  the  good  King  Louis  XYI.  as  a  prisoner ! 
Ah!  never  mind,  Josephine;  have  no  fear  for  the 
future!  Let  them  but  dare  to  come  hither  once 
more ! "  * 

And,  as  Bonaparte  stood  there  and  thus  spoke  in 
front  of  the  statues  of  Brutus  and  Julius  Caesar,  his  voice 
re-echoed  like  angry  thunder  through  the  long  gallery, 
*  Bourrienne,  vol.  vi.,  p.  3. 


BONAPARTE'S  RETURN  FROM  EGYPT.     67 

and  made  the  figures  of  the  heroes  of  the  dead  republic 
tremble  on  their  pedestals. 

Bonaparte  lifted  his  arm  menacingly  toward  the 
statue  of  Brutus,  as  though  he  would,  in  that  fierce 
republican  who  slew  Caesar,  challenge  all  republican 
France,  whose  Caesar  and  Augustus  in  one  he  aspired  to 
be,  to  mortal  combat. 

The  revolution  was  closed.  Bonaparte  had  installed 
himself  in  the  Tuileries  with  Josephine  and  her  two  chil- 
dren. The  son  and  daughter  of  General  Beauharnais, 
whom  the  republic  had  murdered,  had  now  found 
another  father,  who  was  destined  to  avenge  that  murder 
qh  the  repubUc  itself. 

The  revolution  was  over  I 


BOOK  II. 
THE  QUEEN  OF  HOLLAND. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A   FIRST   LOVE. 


With  the  entry  of  Bonaparte  into  the  Tuileries,  the 
revolution  closed,  and  blissful  days  of  tranquillity  and 
gay  festivity  followed.  Josephine  and  Hortense  were 
the  cynosure  of  all  these  festivals,  for  they  were,  like- 
wise, the  animating  centre  whence  the  grace  and  beauty, 
the  attractive  charm,  and  the  intellectual  significance  of 
them  all,  proceeded. 

Hortense  was  passionately  fond  of  dancing,  and  no 
one  at  "  the  court  of  Josephine "  tripped  it  with  such 
gracefulness  and  such  enchanting  delicacy  as  she.  lN"ow, 
as  the  reader  will  observe,  people  already  began  to  speak 
of  the  "  court "  of  Madame  Bonaparte,  the  powerful  wife 
of  the  First  Consul  of  France.  IfTow,  also,  audiences 
were  held,  and  Josephine  and  Hortense  already  had  a 
court  retinue  who  approached  them  with  the  same  sub- 
serviency and  humility  as  though  they  had  been  prin- 
cesses of  the  blood. 


A  FIRST  LOVE.  Q^ 

Madame  Bonaparte  now  rode  with  her  daughter 
through  the  streets  pf  Paris  in  a  richly-gilded  coach^ 
under  a  military  escort,  and  wherever  the  populace 
caught  a  glimpse  of  them  they  greeted  the  wife  and 
daughter  of  the  first  consul  with  applauding  shouts. 

Bonaparte's  coachmen  and  servants  had  now  a  livery,. 
and  made  their  appearance  in  green  coats  with  gold  em- 
broidery and  galloons.  There  were  chamberlains  and 
lackeys,  grooms  and  outriders;  splendid  dinners  and 
evening  parties  were  given,  and  the  ambassadors  of  for- 
eign powers  were  received  in  solemn  audience  ;  for,  now, 
all  the  European  states  had  recognized  the  French  Re- 
pubHc  under  the  consulate,  and,  as  Bonaparte  had  con- 
eluded  peace  with  England  and  Austria,  these  two  great 
powers  also  sent  envoys  to  the  court  of  the  mighty 
consul. 

Instead  of  warlike  struggles,  the  Tuileries  now  wit- 
nessed contentions  of  the  toilet,  and  powder  or  no  jpow- 
der  was  one  of  the  great  questions  of  etiquette  in  which 
Josephine  gave  the  casting  vote  when  she  said  that 
"  every  one  should  dress  as  seemed  best  and  most  becom- 
ing to  each,  but  yet  endeavor  to  let  good  taste  pervade 
the  selection." 

For  some  time,  meanwhile,  Hortense  had  participated 
with  less  zest  than  formerly  in  the  amusements  and  par- 
ties of  the  day ;  for  some  time  she  had  seemed  to  prefer 
being  alone  more  than  in  previous  years,  and  held  her- 
self aloof  in  the  quiet  retirement  of  her  own  apartments, 
where  the  melancholy,   tender,  and  touching  melodies 


70  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

which  she  drew  from  her  harp  in  those  lonely  hours 
seemed  to  hold  her  better  converse  than  all  the  gay  and 
flattering  remarks  that  she  was  accustomed  to  hear  in 
her  mother's  grand  saloons. 

Hortense  sought  solitude,  for  to  solitude  alone  could 
she  confide  what  was  weighing  on  her  heart ;  to  it  alone 
could  she  venture  to  confess  that  she  was  in  love,  and 
with  all  the  innocent  energy,  all  the  warmth  and  absolute 
devotion  of  a  first  attachment.  How  blissful  were  those 
hours  of  reverie,  of  expectant  peering  into  the  future, 
which  seemed  to  promise  the  rising  of  another  sun  of 
happiness  to  her  beaming  gaze !  For  this  young  girl's 
passion  had  the  secret  approbation  of  her  mother  and 
her  step-father,  and  both  of  them  smilingly  pretended 
not  to  be,  in  the  least  degree,  aware  of  the  tender  under- 
standing that  subsisted  between  Hortense  and  General 
Duroc,  Bonaparte's  chief  adjutant ;  only  that,  while  Jo- 
sephine took  it  to  be  the  first  tender  fluttering  of  a 
young  girl's  heart  awaking  to  the  world,  Bonaparte  as- 
cribed a  more  serious  meaning  to  it,  and  bestowed  ear- 
nest thought  upon  the  idea  of  a  union  between  Hortense 
and  his  friend.  He  was  anxious,  above  all  other  things, 
to  give  Duroc  a  more  important  and  imposing  status,  and 
therefore  sent  him  as  ambassador  to  St.  Petersburg,  to 
convey  to  the  Emperor  Alexander,  who  had  just  as- 
cended his  father's  throne,  the  congratulations  and  good 
wishes  of  the  First  Consul  of  France. 

The  poor  young  lovers,  constantly  watched  as  they 
were,  and  as  constantly  restrained  by  the  rules  of  an  eti- 


A  FIRST  LOVE.  71 

quette  which  was  now  becoming  more  and  more  rigid, 
had  not  the  consolation  accorded  to  them  of  exchanging 
even  one  last  unnoticed  pressure  of  the  hand,  one  last 
^nder  vow  of  eternal  fidelity,  when  they  took  leave  of 
each  other.  But  they  hoped  in  the  future,  and  looked 
forward  to  Duroc's  return,  and  to  the  precious  recom- 
pense that  Bonaparte  had  significantly  promised  to  his 
friend.  That  recompense  was  the  hand  of  Hortense. 
Until  then,  they  had  to  content  themselves  with  that  sole 
and  sweetest  solace  of  all  parted  lovers,  the  letters  that 
they  interchanged,  and  which  Bourrienne,  Bonaparte's 
secretary,  faithfully  and  discreetly  transmitted. 

"Nearly  every  evening,"  relates  Bourrienne,  in  his 
Memoires,  "I  played  a  game  of  billiards  with  Made- 
moiselle Hortense,  who  was  an  adept  at  it.  When  I  said, 
in  a  low  tone  to  her,  '  I  have  a  letter,'  the  game  would 
cease  at  once,  and  she  would  hasten  to  her  room,  whither 
I  followed  her,  and  took  the  letter  to  her.  Her  eyes 
would  instantly  fill  with  tears  of  emotion  and  delight, 
and  it  was  only  after  a  long  lapse  of  time  that  she  would 
go  down  to  the  saloon  whither  I  had  preceded  her."  * 

Hortense,  thus  busied  only  with  her  young  lover  and 
her  innocent  dreams  of  the  future,  troubled  herself  but 
little  concerning  what  was  taking  place  around  her,  and 
did  not  perceive  that  others  were  ready  to  make  her 
young  heart  the  plaything  of  domestic  and  political  in- 
trigue. 

Bon&parte's  brothers,  who  were  jealous  of  the  sway 
•  Bomrienne,  voL  iv.,  p.  819. 


72  QUEEN  HORTENSB. 

that  the  beautiful  and  fascinating  Josephine  still  exerted 
over  the  first  consul,  as  in  the  first  days  of  their  wedded 
life,  were  anxious,  bj  separating  Hortense  from  her 
mother,  to  deprive  Josephine  of  one  of  the  strongest  sup- 
ports of  her  influence,  and  thus,  by  isolating  Josephine, 
bring  themselves  nearer  to  their  brother.  They  well 
knew  the  affection  which  Bonaparte,  who  was  particu- 
larly fond  of  children,  entertained  for  those  of  his  wife, 
and  they  also  knew  that  Eugene  and  Hortense  had,  one 
day,  not  by  their  entreaties  or  their  tears,  but  by  their 
mere  presence,  prevented  Josephine  and  Bonaparte  from 
separating. 

This  was  at  the  time  when  the  whisperings  of  his 
brothers  and  of  Junot  had  succeeded  in  making  Bona- 
parte jealous  on  his  return  from  Egypt. 

At  that  time,  Bonaparte  had  resolved  to  separate 
from  a  woman,  against  whom,  however,  his  anger  was 
thus  fiercely  aroused,  simply  because  he  was  so  strongly 
attached  to  her  ;  and  when  Bourrienne  implored  him,  at 
least,  to  hear  Josephine  before  condemning  her,  and  to 
see  whether  she  could  not  clear  herself,  or  he  could  not 
forgive  her,  he  had  replied : 

"  I  forgive  her  ?  ISTever  !  Were  I  not  sure  of  myself 
this  time,  I  would  tear  my  heart  out  and  throw  it  into 
the  fire  ! "  And,  as  Bonaparte  spoke,  his  voice  trem- 
bling the  while  with  rage,  he  clutched  his  breast  with 
his  hand  as  though  he  would  indeed  rend  it  to  pieces. 
This  scene  occurred  in  the  evening,  but,  when  Bourri- 
enne came    into    the  office    next    morning,   Bonaparte 


A  FIRST  LOVE.  73 

stepped  forward  to  meet  him  with  a  smile  on  his  face, 
and  a  Httle  confused. 

"  Now,  Bourrienne,"  said  he,  "  you  will  be  content — 
she  is  here !  Don't  suppose  that  I  have  forgiven  her — 
no,  not  at  all !  Ko,  I  reproached  her  vehemently,  and 
sent  her  away.  But,  what  would  you  have  ? — when  she 
left  me,  weeping,  I  went  after  her,  and,  as  she  descended 
the  stairs  with  her  head  drooping,  I  saw  Eugene  and 
Hortense,  who  went  with  her,  sobbing  violently.  I  have 
not  the  heart  to  look  unmoved  on  any  one  in  tears.  Eu- 
gene had  accompanied  me  to  Egypt,  and  I  have  accus- 
tomed myself  to  regard  him  as  my  adopted  son ;  he  is  so 
gallant,  so  excellent  a  young  man.  Hortense  is  just  com- 
ing out  into  the  world  of  society,  and  every  one  who 
knows  her  speaks  well  of  her.  I  confess,  Bourrienne, 
tliat  the  sight  of  her  moved  me  deeply,  and  the  sob- 
bing of  those  two  poor  children  made  me  sad  as  well. 
I  said  to  myself,  'Shall  they  be  the  victims  of  their 
mother's  fault?'  I  called  Eugene  back.  Hortense 
turned  round  and,  along  with  Josephine,  followed  her 
brother.  I  saw  the  movement,  and  said  nothing.  What 
could  I  do  ?  One  cannot  be  a  mortal  man  without  hav- 
ing his  hours  of  weakness  ! " 

"Be  assured,  general,"  exclaimed  Bourrienne,  "that 
your  adopted  children  will  reward  you  for  it ! " 

"  They  must  do  so,  Bourrienne — they  must  do  so ;  for 
it  is  a  great  sacrifice  that  I  have  made  for  them ! "  * 

This  sacrifice,  however,  had  its  recompense  imme- 
♦  Bourrienne,  vol.  iv.,  p.  119. 


74  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

diatelj,  for  Josephine  had  been  able  to  set  herself  right^ 
and  Bonaparte  had  joyfully  become  convinced  that  the 
accusations  of  his  jealous  brothers  had  been  unjust. 

Hence  it  was  that  Bonaparte's  brothers  wished  to  re^ 
move  Hortense,  since  they  knew  that  she  was  her  moth- 
er's main  stay ;  that  she,  with  her  gentle,  amiable  dispo- 
sition, her  tact  and  good  sense,  her  penetrating  and 
never-failing  sagacity,  stood  like  a  wise  young  Mentor  at 
the  side  of  her  beautiful,  attractive,  impulsive,  somewhat 
vain,  and  very  extravagant  mother. 

It  would  be  easier  to  set  Josephine  aside  were  Hor- 
tense first  removed;  and  Josephine  they  wanted  to  get 
out  of  the  way  because  she  interfered  with  the  ambi- 
tious designs  of  Bonaparte's  brothers.  Since  they  could 
not  become  great  and  celebrated  by  their  own  merits,  they 
desired  to  be  so  through  their  illustrious  brother ;  and,  in 
order  that  they  might  become  kings,  Bonaparte  must, 
above  all  things,  wear  a  crown.  Josephine  was  opposed 
to  this  project ;  she  loved  Bonaparte  enough  to  fear  the 
dangers  that  a  usurpation  of  the  crown  must  bring  with 
it,  and  she  had  so  little  ambition  as  to  prefer  her  present 
brilliant  and  peaceful  lot  to  the  proud  but  perilous  ex- 
altation to  a  throne. 

For  this  reason,  then,  Josephine  was  to  be  removed, 
and  Bonaparte  must  choose  another  wife — a  wife  in 
whose  veins  there  should  course  legitimate  royal  blood, 
and  who  would,  therefore,  be  content  to  sea  a  crown 
upon  the  head  of  her  consort. 


LOUIS  BONAPARTE  AND  DUROC.  75 

CHAPTER  11. 

LOUIS  BONAPABTE  AND  DTJEOO. 

The  brothers  of  Bonaparte  went  diligently  to  work 
then,  above  all  things,  to  get  Hortense  out  of  the  way. 
They  told  Bonaparte  of  the  burning  love  of  the  young 
couple,  of  the  letters  which  they  sent  to  each  other,  and 
proposed  to  him  that  Duroc  should  be  transferred  to  the 
Italian  army  with  a  higher  command,  and  that  Hortense 
should  then  be  given  to  him.  They  persuaded  the  un- 
suspecting, magnanimous  hero,  who  was  easy  to  deceive 
in  these  minor  matters  and  thus  easy  because  he  was 
occupied  with  grand  designs  and  grand  things ;  they  per- 
suaded him  to  keep  the  proposed  union  a  secret  for  the 
present,  and  then  on  Duroc's  early  return  to  surprise  the 
young  couple  and  Josephine  alike. 

But  Josephine  hsui,  this  time,  seen  through  the  plans 
of  her  hostile  brothers-in-law.  She  felt  that  her  whole 
existence,  her  entire  future,  was  imperilled,  should  she 
not  succeed  in  making  friends  and  allies  in  the  family  of 
Bonaparte  itself.  There  was  only  one  of  Bonaparte's 
brothers  who  was  not  hostile  to  her,  but  loved  her  as 
the  wife  of  his  brother,  to  whom  he  was,  at  that  time, 
still  devoted  with  the  most  enthusiastic  and  submissive 
tenderness. 

This  one  was  Bonaparte's  brother  Louis,  a  young  man 
of  serious  and  sedate  disposition,  more  of  a  scholar  than 
a  warrior,  more  a  man  of  science  than  fit  for  the  council- 


76  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

chamber  and  the  drawing-room.  His  was  a  reserved, 
quiet,  somewhat  timid  character,  which,  notwithstanding 
its  apparent  gentleness,  developed  an  inflexible  deter- 
mination and  energy  at  the  right,  decisive  moment,  and 
then  could  not  be  shaken  bj  either  threats  or  entreaties. 
His  external  appearance  was  little  calculated  to  please, 
nay,  was  even  somewhat  sinister,  and  commanded  the 
respect  of  others  only  in  moments  of  excitement,  through 
the  fierce  blaze  of  his  large  blue  eyes,  that  seemed  rather 
to  look  inward  than  outward. 

Louis  Bonaparte  was  one  of  those  deep,  self-contained, 
undemonstrative,  and  by  no .  means  showy  natures  which 
are  too  rarely  understood,  because,  in  the  noisy  bustle  of 
life,  we  have  not  the  time  and  do  not  take  the  pains  to 
analyze  them.  Only  a  sister  or  a  mother  is  in  a  position 
to  comprehend  and  love  men  of  this  stamp,  because  the 
confidential  home  relations  of  long  years  have  revealed  to 
them  the  hidden  bloom  of  these  sensitive  plants  which 
shrink  back  and  close  their  leaves  at  every  rude  contact 
of  the  world.  But  rarely,  however,  do  they  find  a  loving 
heart  outside,  for,  since  their  own  hearts  are  too  timid  to 
seek  for  love,  no  one  gives  himself  the  trouble  to  discover 
them. 

The  young  brother  of  her  husband,  now  scarcely 
twenty-four,  was  the  one  who  seemed  destined  in  Jose- 
phine's eyes  to  afford  her  a  point  of  support  in  the  Bona- 
|)U!rte  family. 

Madame  Letitia  loved  him  more  tenderly  than  she 
did  any  of  them,  next  to  her  IS'apoleon,  since  he  was  the 


LOUIS  BONAPARTE  AND  DUROC.  77 

petted  darling  of  the  whole  family  of  brothers,  who  had 
no  fear  of  him,  because  he  was  neither  egotistical  nor 
ambitious  enough  to  cross  their  plans,  but  quietly  allowed 
them  to  have  their  way,  and  only  asked  that  they  would 
also  leave  him  undisturbed  to  follow  out  his  own  quiet 
and  unobtrusive  inclinations.  He  was  the  confidant  of 
his  young  and  beautiful  sisters,  who  were  always  sure  to 
find  in  him  a  discreet  counsellor,  and  never  a  betrayer. 
Finally,  he  was  the  one  of  the  whole  circle  of  brothers 
toward  whom  Napoleon  felt  the  sincerest  and  warmest 
inclination,  because  he  could  not  help  esteeming  him  for 
his  noble  qualities,  and  because  he  was  never  annoyed  by 
him  as  he  was  by  his  other  brothers ;  for  the  ambition 
and  the  avarice  of  Jerome,  Joseph,  and  Lucien,  were  even 
then  a  source  of  displeasure  and  chagrin  to  Bonaparte. 

"  Were  any  one  to  hear  with  what  persistency  my 
brothers  demand  fresh  sums  of  money  from  me,  every 
day,  he  would  really  think  that  I  had  consumed  from 
them  the  inheritance  their  father  left,"  said  Bonaparte, 
one  day,  to  Bourrienne,  after  a  violent  scene  between  him 
and  Jerome,  which  had  ended,  as  they  all  did,  in  Jerome 
getting  another  draft  on  the  private  purse  of  the  first 
consul. 

Louis,  however,  never  asked  for  money,  but  always 
appeared  thankfully  content  with  whatever  Bonaparte 
chose  to  give  him,  unsolicited,  and  there  never  were  any 
wranglings  with  tradesmen  on  his  account,  or  any  debts 
of  his  to  pay. 

This  last  circumstance  was  what  filled  Josephine  with 


78  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

a  sort  of  respectful  deference  for  her  young  step-brother. 
He  understood  how  to  manage  his  affairs  so  well  as  never 
to  run  up  debts,  and  this  was  a  quality  that  was  so  sorely 
lacking  in  Josephine,  that  she  could  never  avoid  incurring 
debt.  How  many  bitter  annoyances,  how  much  care  and 
anxiety  had  not  her  debts  cost  her  already ;  how  often 
Bonaparte  had  scolded  her  about  them ;  how  often  she 
had  promised  to  do  differently,  and  make  no  more  pur- 
chases until  she  should  be  in  a  condition  to  pay  at  once ! 

But  this  reform  was  to  her  thoughtless  and  magnani- 
mous nature  an  impossibility ;  and  however  greatly  she 
may  have  feared  the  flashing  eyes  and  thundering  voice 
of  her  husband  when  he  was  angered,  she  could  not  es- 
cape his  wrath  in  this  one  point,  for  in  that  point  pre- 
cisely was  it  that  the  penitent  sinner  continually  fell  into 
fresh  transgression — and  again  ran  into  debt ! 

Louis,  however^  never  had  debts.  He  was  as  cautious 
and  regular  as  her  own  Hortense,  and  therefore,  thought 
Josephine,  these  two  young,  careful,  thoughtful  temper- 
aments would  be  well  adapted  to  each  other,  and  would 
know  how  to  manage  their  hearts  as  discreetly  as  they 
did  their  purses. 

So  she  wished  to  make  a  step-son  of  Louis  Bonaparte, 
in  order  to  strengthen  her  own  position  thereby.  Jose- 
phine already  had  a  premonitory  distrust  of  the  future^ 
and  it  may  sometimes  have  happened  that  she  took  the 
mighty  eagle  that  fluttered  above  her  head  for  a  bird  of 
evil  omen  whose  warning  cry  she  frequently  fancied  that 
she  heard  in  the  stillness  of  the  night. 


LOUIS  BONAPARTE  AND  DUROC.  79 

The  negress  at  Martinique  had  said  to  her,  "  You  will 
be  more  than  a  queen."  But  now,  Josephine  had  visited 
the  new  fortune-teller,  Madame  Yilleneuve,  in  Paris,  and 
she  had  said  to  her,  "  You  will  wear  a  crown,  but  only 
for  a  short  time." 

Only  for  a  short  time  !  Josephine  was  too  young,  too 
happy,  and  too  healthful,  to  think  of  her  own  early  death. 
It  must,  then,  be  something  else  that  threatened  her — a 
separation,  perhaps.  She  had  no  children,  yet  Bonaparte 
60  earnestly  desired  to  have  a  son,  and  his  brothers  re- 
peated to  him  daily  that  this  was  for  him  a  political 
necessity. 

Thus  Josephine  trembled  for  her  future ;  she  stretched 
out  her  hands  for  help,  and  in  the  selfishness  of  her  trou- 
ble asked  her  daughter  to  give  up  her  own  dreams  of 
happiness,  in  order  to  secure  the  real  happiness  of  her 
mother. 

Yet  Hortense  was  in  love  ;  her  young  heart  throbbed 
painfully  at  the  thought  of  not  only  relinquishing  her 
own  love,  but  of  marrying  an  unloved  man,  whom  she 
had  never  even  thought  of,  and  had  scarcely  noticed. 
She  deemed  it  impossible  that  she  could  be  asked  to  sac- 
rifice her  own  beautiful  and  blessed  happiness,  to  a  cold 
blooded  calculation,  an  artificial  family  intrigue ;  and  so, 
with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  a  first  love,  she  swore  rather 
to  perish  than  to  forego  her  lover. 

"  But  Duroc  has  no  fortune  and  no  future  to  offer 
you,"  said  Josephine.  "  What  he  is,  he  is  only  through 
the  friendship  of  Bonaparte,     He  has  no  estate,  no  im- 


80  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

portance,  no  celebrity.  Were  Bonaparte  to  abandon  him, 
he  would  fall  back  into  nothingness  and  obscurity  again." 

Hortense  replied,  smiling  through  her  tears  :  "  I  love 
him,  and  have  no  other  ambition  than  to  be  his  wife." 

"  But  he  ?  Do  you  think  that  he  too  has  no  other 
ambition  than  to  become  your  husband  ?  Do  you  think 
that  he  loves  you  for  your  own  sake  alone  ? " 

"  I  know  it,"  said  the  young  girl,  with  beaming  eyes  ; 
"  Duroc  has  told  me  that  he  loved  me,  and  me  only.  He 
has  sworn  eternal  fidelity  and  love  to  me.  Both  of  us  ask 
for  nothing  more  than  to  belong  to  each  other." 

Josephine  shrugged  her  shoulders  almost  compassion- 
ately. 

"  Suppose,"  she  rejoined,  "  that  I  were  to  affirm  that 
Duroc  is  willing  to  marry  you,  only  because  he  is  am- 
bitious, and  thinks  that  Bonaparte  would  then  advance 
him  the  more  rapidly  ?  " 

''  It  is  a  slander — it  is  impossible  !  "  exclaimed  Hor- 
tense, glowing  with  honest  indignation ;  "  Duroc  loves 
me,  and  his  noble  soul  is  far  from  all  selfish  calculation." 

"  And  if  I  were  to  prove  the  contrary  to  you  ? "  asked 
Josephine,  irritated  by  her  daughter's  resistance,  and 
made  cruel  by  her  alarm  for  her  own  fortunes. 

Hortense  turned  pale,  and  her  face,  which  had  been 
so  animated,  so  beautiful,  a  moment  before,  blanched  as 
though  the  icy  chill  of  death  had  passed  over  it. 

"  If  you  can  prove  to  me,"  she  said,  in  a  hollow  tone, 
"  that  Duroc  loves  me  only  through  ambitious  motives,  I 
am  ready  to  give  him  up,  and  marry  whom  you  will." 


LOUIS  BONAPARTE  AND  DUROC.  81 

Josephine  triumplied.  "  Duroc  gets  back  to-day  from 
his  journey,"  she  replied,  "  and  in  three  days  more  I  will 
give  you  the  proof  that  he  does  not  love  you,  but  tlic 
family  alliance  which  you  present." 

Hortense  had  heard  only  the  first  of  her  mother's 
words  :  "  Duroc  returns  to-day."  What  cared  she  for  all 
the  rest?  She  should  see  him  again — she  should  read 
consolation  and  love's  assurance  in  his  handsome  manly 
face  ;  not  that  she  needed  this  to  confirm  her  confidence, 
for  she  believed  in  him,  and  not  the  shadow  of  a  doubt 
obscured  her  blissful  greeting. 

Meanwhile,  Josephine's  pretty  hands  were  busy  draw- 
ing the  meshes  of  this  intrigue  tighter  every  moment. 
She  absolutely  required  a  supporting  ally  in  the  family, 
against  the  family  itself ;  and  for  this  reason  Louis  must 
become  the  husband  of  Hortense. 

Bonaparte  himself  was  against  this  union,  and  was 
quite  resolved  to  marry  Duroc  to  his  step-daughter.  But 
Josephine  managed  to  shake  his  resolve,  by  means  of  en- 
treaties, representations,  caresses,  and  little  endearments, 
and  even  succeeded  in  such  eloquent  argument  to  show 
that  Duroc  did  not  cherish  any  love  whatever  for  Hor- 
tense, but  wanted  to  make  an  ambitious  speculation  out 
of  her,  that  Bonaparte  resolved,  at  least,  to  put  his  friend 
to  the  test,  and,  if  Josephine  turned  out  to  be  right,  to 
marry  Hortense  to  his  own  brother. 

After  this  last  interview  with  Josephine,  Bonaparte 
went  back  into  his  oflSce,  where  he  found  Bourrienne,  as 
ever,  at  the  writing-desk. 


82  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

"  Where  is  Duroc  ? "  he  hastily  asked. 

"  He  has  gone  out — to  the  opera,  I  think." 

"  So  soon  as  he  returns  tell  him  that  I  have  promised 
him  Hortense — that  he  shall  marry  her.  But  I  want  the 
wedding  to  take  place  in  two  days,  at  the  farthest.  I  give 
Hortense  ^ye  hundred  thousand  francs,  and  I  appoint 
Duroc  to  the  command  of  the  eighth  military  division. 
On  the  day  after  his  wedding  he  shall  start  with  his  wife 
for  Toulon,  and  we  shall  live  apart.  I  will  not  have 
a  son-in-law  in  my  house ;  and,  as  I  want  to  see  these 
matters  brought  to  an  end,  at  last,  let  me  know  to-day 
whether  Duroc  accepts  my  propositions." 

"  I  don't  think  that  he  will,  general." 

"  Yery  good !  Then,  in  that  case,  Hortense  shall 
marry  my  brother  Louis." 

"  Will  she  consent  ? " 

"  She  will  have  to  consent,  Bourrienne." 

Duroc  came  in  at  a  late  hour  that  evening,  and  Bour- 
rienne told  him,  word  for  word,  the  ultimatum  of  the 
first  consul. 

Duroc  listened  to  him  attentively ;  but,  as  Bourrienne 
went  on  with  his  communication,  his  countenance  grew 
darker  and  darker. 

"  If  such  be  the  case,"  he  exclaimed  at  last,  when 
Bourrienne  had  got  through,  "  if  Bonaparte  will  do  noth- 
ing more  than  that  for  his  son-in-law,  I  must  forego  a 
marriage  with  Hortense,  however  painful  it  may  be  to 
do  so  :  and  then,  instead  of  going  to  Toulon,  I  can 
remain  in  Paris."     And,  as  he  ceased  to  speak,  Duroc 


LOUIS  BONAPARTE  AND  DUROC.  83 

took  up  his  hat,  without  a  trace  of  excitement  or  concern, 
and  departed. 

That  same  evening,  Josephine  received  from  her  hus- 
band his  full  consent  to  the  marriage  of  her  daughter  to 
Louis  Bonaparte. 

On  that  very  evening,  too,  Josephine  informed  her 
daughter  that  Duroc  had  not  withstood  the  test,  and 
that  he  had  now  relinquished  her,  through  ambition,  as, 
through  ambition,  he  had  previously  feigned  to  love  her. 

Hortense  gazed  at  her  mother  with  tearless  eyes.  She 
had  not  a  word  of  complaint  or  reproach  to  utter ;  she 
was  conscious  merely  that  a  thunder-bolt  had  just  fallen, 
and  had  forever  dashed  to  atoms  her  love,  her  hopes,  her 
future,  and  her  happiness. 

But  she  no  longer  had  the  strength  and  the  will  to  es- 
cape the  evil  that  had  flung  its  meshes  around  her ;  she 
submitted  meekly  to  it.  She  had  been  betrayed  by  love 
itself  ;  and  what  cared  she  now  for  her  future,  her  embit- 
tered, bloomless,  scentless  life,  when  he  had  deceived  her 
— he,  the  only  one  whom  she  had  loved  ? 

The  next  morning  Hortense  stepped,  self-possessed 
And  smiling,  into  Josephine's  private  cabinet,  and  de- 
clared that  she  was  ready  to  fulfil  her  mother's  wishes 
and  marry  Louis  Bonaparte. 

Josephine  clasped  her  in  her  arms,  with  exclamations 
of  delight.  She  little  knew  what  a  night  of  anguish,  of 
wailing,  of  tears,  and  of  despair,  Hortense  had  struggled 
through,  or  that  her  present  smiling  unconcern  was  noth- 
ing more  than  the  dull  hopelessness  of  a  worn-out  heart. 


84  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

She  did  not  see  that  Hortense  smiled  now  only  in  order 
that  Duroc  should  not  observe  that  she  suffered.  Her 
love  for  him  was  dead,  but  her  maidenly  pride  had  sur- 
vived, and  it  dried  her  tears,  and  conjured  up  a  smile  to- 
her  struggling  lips ;  it,  too,  enabled  her  to  declare  that 
she  was  ready  to  accept  the  husband  whom  her  mother 
might  present  to  her. 

Thus,  Josephine  had  accomplished  her  purpose ;  she 
had  made  one  of  Bonaparte's  brothers  her  son.  Now 
there  remained  the  question  whether  she  should  attain 
her  other  aim  through  that  son,  and  whether  she  should 
jS.nd  in  him  a  support  against  the  intrigues  of  the  other 
brothers  of  the  first  consul. 


CHAPTEK  III. 

CONSUL  AND   KING. 

Theke  was  only  two  days'  interval  between  the  be- 
trothal of  the  young  couple  and  their  wedding ;  and  on 
the  7th  of  January,  1802,  Hortense  was  married  to  Louis 
Bonaparte,  the  youngest  brother  but  one  of  the  first  con- 
isul.  Bonaparte,  who  contented  himself  with  the  civil 
ceremony,  and  had  never  given  his  own  union  with  Jo- 
sephine the  sanction  of  the  Church,  was  less  careless  and 
unconcerned  with  regard  to  this  youthful  alliance,  which 
had,  indeed,  great  need  of  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  in  or- 
der to  prove  a  source  of  any  good  fortune  to  the  young 


CONSUL  AND  KING.  85 

couple.  Perhaps  lie  reasoned  that  the  consciousness  of 
the  indissoluble  character  of  their  union  would  lead  them 
to  an  honorable  and  upright  effort  for  a  mutual  inclina- 
tion ;  perhaps  it  was  because  he  simply  wished  to  render 
their  separation  impossible.  Cardinal  Caprara  was  called 
into  the  Tuileries,  after  the  civil  ceremony  concluded, 
and  had  to  bestow  the  blessing  of  God  and  of  the  Church 
upon  the  bride  and  bridegroom. 

Yet,  not  one  word  or  one  glance  had  thus  far  been 
interchanged  by  the  young  couple.  It  was  in  silence 
that  they  stepped,  after  the  ceremonies  were  over,  into 
the  carriage  that  bore  them  to  their  new  home,  in  the 
same  small  residence  in  the  Eue  de  la  Yictoire  which 
her  mother  had  occupied  in  the  first  happy  weeks  of 
her  youthful  union  with  Bonaparte. 

Now,  another  young,  newly-married  pair  were  mak- 
ing their  entry  into  this  dwelling,  but  love  did  not  enter 
with  them ;  affection  and  happiness  did  not  shine  in 
their  faces,  as  had  been  the  case  with  Bonaparte  and  Jo- 
sephine. The  eyes  of  Hortense  were  dimmed  with  tears, 
and  the  countenance  of  her  young  husband  was  dark  and 
gloomy.  For,  on  his  side,  he,  too,  felt  no  love  for  this 
young  woman ;  and,  as  she  never  forgave  him  for  hav- 
ing accepted  her  hand,  although  he  knew  that  she  loved 
another,  he,  in  like  manner,  could  never  forgive  her  hav- 
ing consented  to  be  his  wife,  although  he  had  not  been 
the  one  to  solicit  it,  and  although  he  had  never  told  her 
that  he  loved  her.  Both  had  bowed  to  the  will  of  him 
who  gave  the  law,  not  merely  to  all  France,  but  also  to 


^6  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

Ms  own  family,  and  who  had  already  become  the  lord 
and  master  of  the  republic.  Both  had  married  through 
obedience,  not  for  love;  and  the  consciousness  of  this 
xjompulsion  rose  like  an  impassable  wall  between  these 
twQ  otherwise  tender  and  confiding  young  hearts.  In 
the  consciousness  of  this  compulsion,  too,  they  would  not 
even  try  to  love  one  another,  or  find  in  each  other's  so- 
ciety the  happiness  that  they  were  forbidden  to  seek  else- 
where. 

Pale  and  mournful,  in  splendid  attire,  but  with  a 
heavy  heart,  did  Hortense  make  her  appearance  at  the 
fetes  which  were  given  in  honor  of  her  marriage ;  and 
it  was  with  a  beclouded  brow  and  averted  face  that 
Louis  Bonaparte  received  the  customary  congratulations. 
While  every  one  around  them  exhibited  a  cheerful  and 
joyous  bearing,  while  parties  were  given  in  their  honor, 
and  people  danced  and  sang,  the  young  couple  only,  of 
all  present,  were  dull  and  sad.  Louis  avoided  speaking 
to  Hortonse,  and  she  turned  her  gaze  away  from  him, 
possibly  so  that  he  might  not  read  in  it  her  deep  and 
angry  aversion. 

But  she  had  to  accept  her  lot;  and,  since  she  was 
thus  indissolubly  bound  up  with  another;  she  had  to  try 
to  live  with  that  other.  Hortense,  externally  so  gentle 
and  yielding,  so  full  of  maiden  coyness  and  delicacy, 
nevertheless  possessed  a  strong  and  resolute  soul,  and,  in 
the  noble  pride  of  her  wounded  heart,  was  unwilling  to 
give  any  one  the  right  to  pity  her.  Her  soul  wept,  but 
she  restrained  her  tear-g  and  still  tried  to  smile,  were  it 


CONSUL  AND  KING.  87 

only  that  Duroc  might  not  perceive  the  traces  of  her 
grief  upon  her  sunken  cheeks.  She  had  torn  this  love 
from  her  heart,  and  she  rebuked  herself  that  it  had  left 
a  wound.  She  laid  claim  to  happiness  no  more  ;  but  her 
youth,  her  proud  self-respect,  revolted  at  the  idea  of  con- 
tinuing to  be  the  slave  of  misfortune  henceforth,  and  so 
she  formed  her  firm  'resolve,  saying  to  herself,  with  a 
melancholy  smile,  "  I  must  manage  to  be  happy,  without 
happiness.     Let  me  try ! " 

And  she  did  try.  She  once  more  arrayed  herself  in 
smiles,  and  again  took  part  in  the  festivities  which  now 
were  filling  the  halls  of  St.  Cloud,  Malmaison,  and  the 
Tuileries,  and  which,  too,  were  but  the  dying  lay  of  the 
swan  of  the  republic,  or,  if  you  will,  the  cradle-song  of 
reviving  monarchy. 

For  things  were  daily  sweeping  nearer  and  nearer  to 
that  great  turning-point,  at  which  the  French  people 
would  have  to  choose  between  a  seeming  republic  and  a 
real  monarchy.  France  was  already  a  republic  but  in 
name ;  the  new,  approaching  monarchy  was,  indeed,  but 
a  new-bom,  naked  infant  as  yet,  but  only  a  bold  hand 
was  wanting,  that  should  possess  the  determined  courage 
to  clothe  it  with  ermine  and  purple,  in  order  to  trans- 
form the  helpless  babe  into  a  proud,  triumphant  man. 

That  courage  Bonaparte  possessed ;  but  he  had,  also, 
the  higher  courage  to  advance  carefully  and  slowly.  He 
let  the  infant  of  monarchy,  that  lay  there  naked  and 
helpless  at  his  feet,  shiver  there  a  little  longer ;  but,  lest 
it  should  freeze  altogether,  he  threw  over  it,  for  the  time 


88  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

being,  the  mantle  of  his  "  consulship  for  life."  Beneath 
it,  the  babe  could  slumber  comfortably  a  few  weeks 
longer,  while  waiting  for  its  purple  robes. 

Bonaparte  was  now,  by  the  will  of  the  French  people, 
consul  for  life.  He  stood  close  to  the  steps  of  a  throne, 
and  it  depended  only  upon  himself  whether  he  would 
mount  those  steps,  or  whether,  like  General  Monk,  he 
would  recall  the  fugitive  king,  and  restore  to  him  the 
sceptre  of  his  forefathers.  The  brothers  of  Bonaparte 
desired  the  first ;  Josephine  implored  Heaven  for  the  lat- 
ter alternative.  She  was  too  completely  a  loving  woman 
only,  to  long  for  the  chilly  joys  of  mere  ambition ;  she 
was  too  entirely  occupied  with  her  personal  happiness, 
not  to  fear  every  danger  that  menaced  it.  Should  Bona- 
parte place  a  crown  upon  his  head,  he  would  also  have  to 
think  of  becoming  the  founder  of  a  dynasty;  and  in 
order  to  strengthen  and  fortify  his  position,  he  would 
have  to  place  a  legitimate  heir  by  his  side.  Josephine 
had  borne  her  husband  no  children ;  and  she  knew  that 
his  brothers  had,  more  than  once,  proposed  to  him  to  dis- 
solve his  childless  union,  and  replace  it  with  the  presence 
of  a  young  wife.  Hence,  Bonaparte's  assumption  of 
royal  dignity  meant  a  separation  from  her;  and  Jose- 
phine still  loved  him  too  well,  and  too  much  with  a 
young  wife's  love,  to  take  so  great  a  sacrifice  upon  her. 

Moreover,  Josephine  was  at  heart  a  royalist,  and  con- 
sidered the  Count  de  Lille,  who,  after  so  many  agitations 
and  wanderings,  had  found  an  asylum  at  Hartwell,  in 
England,  the  legitimate  King  of  France. 


CONSUL  AND  KING.  89 

The  letters  which  the  Count  de  Lille  (afterward  King 
Louis  XYIII.)  had  written  to  Bonaparte,  had  filled  Jose- 
phine's heart  with  emotion,  and,  with  a  kind  of  appre- 
hensive foreboding,  she  had  conjured  her  husband  to,  at 
least,  give  the  brother  of  the  beheaded  king  a  mild  and 
considerate  answer.  Yes,  she  had  even  ventured  to  be- 
seech Bonaparte  to  comply  with  the  request  that  Louis 
had  made,  and  give  him  back  the  throne  of  his  ancestors. 
But  Bonaparte  had  laughed  at  this  suggestion,  as  he 
would  at  some  childish  joke;  for  it  had  never  entered 
into  his  head  that  any  one  could  seriously  ask  him  to  lay 
his  laurels  and  his  trophies  at  the  foot  of  a  throne,  which 
not  he,  but  a  member  of  that  Bourbon  family  whom 
France  had  banished  forever,  should  ascend. 

Louis  had  written  to  Bonaparte :  "  I  cannot  believe 
that  the  victor  at  Lodi,  Castiglione,  and  Areola — the  con- 
queror of  Italy  and  Egypt — would  not  prefer  real  glory 
to  mere  empty  celebrity.  Meanwhile,  you  are  losing 
precious  time.  We  can  secure  the  glory  of  France;  I 
say  we,  because  I  have  need  of  Bonaparte  in  the  work, 
and  because  he  cannot  complete  it  without  me.'* 

But  Bonaparte  already  felt  strong  enough  to  say,  not 
"  we,''  but  "  I,"  and  to  complete  his  work  alone.  There- 
fore, he  replied  to  the  Count  de  Lille :  "  You  cannot  de- 
sire your  return  to  France,  for  you  would  have  to  enter 
it  over  a  himdred  thousand  corpses ;  sacrifice  your  per- 
sonal interests  to  the  tranquillity  and  happiness  of 
France.  History  will  pay  you  a  grateful  acknowledg- 
ment." 


90  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

Louis  had  said  in  his  letter  to  Bonaparte,  "Choose 
your  own  position,  and  mark  out  what  you  want  for  your 
friends."  And  Bonaparte  did  choose  his  position ;  but^ 
unfortunately  for  the  Count  de  Lille,  it  was  the  very  one 
which  the  latter  had  wished  to  reserve  for  himself. 

Josephine  would  have  been  glad  to  vacate  the  king's 
place  for  him,  could  she  but  have  retained  her  husband 
by  so  doing.  She  had  no  longings  for  a  diadem  which, 
by-the-way,  her  beautiful  head  did  not  require  in.  order 
to  command  admiration. 

"  You  cannot  avoid  being  a  queen  or  an  empresSj  one 
of  these  days,"  said  Bourrienne  to  her,  on  a  certain  occa- 
sion. 

Josephine  replied,  with  tears:  ^' Mon  Dieul  I  am 
far  from  cherishing  any  such  ambition.  So  long  as  I 
live,  to  be  the  wife  of  Bonaparte — of  the  first  consul — is 
the  sum  total  of  my  wishes !  Tell  him  so ;  conjure  him. 
not  to  make  himself  king."  * 

But  Josephine  did  not  content  herself  with  request-^ 
ing  Bourrienne  to  tell  her  husband  this;  she  had  the 
courage  to  say  so  to  him  herself. 

One  day  she  went  into  [N'apoleon's  cabinet,  and  found 
him  at  breakfast,  and  unusually  cheerful  and  good-hu- 
mored. She  had  entered  without  having  been  an- 
nounced, and  crept  up  on  tiptoe  to  her  husband,  who  sat 
with  his  back  turned  toward  her,  and  had  not  yet  noticed 
her.  Lightly  throwing  her  arm  around  his  neck,  and 
letting  herself  sink  upon  his  breast,  and  then  stroking  his. 
*  Bourrienne,  vol.  v.,.  p..  47% 


CONSUL  AND  KING.  91 

pale  cheeks  and  glossy  brown  hair,  with  an  expression  of 
unutterable  love  and  tenderness,  she  said : 

"  I  implore  you,  Bonaparte,  do  not  mount  the  throne. 
Your  wicked  brother  Lucien  will  urge  you  to  it,  but  da 
not  listen  to  him." 

Bonaparte  laughed.  "You  are  a  little  goose,  poor 
Josephine,"  he  said.  "  It's  the  old  dowagers  of  the  Fau- 
bourg St.  Germain,  and  your  La  Kochefoucauld,  more 
than  all  the  rest,  who  tell  you  these  wonderful  stories ; 
but  you  worry  me  to  death  with  them.  Come,  now^ 
don't  bother  me  about  them  any  more ! " 

Bonaparte  had  put  off  Josephine  with  a  laugh  and  a 
jesting  word,  but  he  nevertheless  conversed  earnestly 
and  seriously  with  his  most  intimate  personal  friends  on 
the  subject  of  his  assuming  the  crown.  In  the  course  of 
one  of  these  interviews,  Bourrienne  said  to  him  : 

"As  first  consul,  you  are  the  leading  and  most 
famous  man  in  all  Europe;  whereas,  if  you  place  the 
crown  upon  your  head,  you  will  be  only  the  youngest  in 
date  of  all  the  kings,  and  will  have  to  yield  precedence  to 
them." 

Bonaparte's  eyes  blazed  up  with  fiercer  fire,  and,  with 
that  daring  and  imposing  look  which  was  pecuHar  to  him 
in  great  and  decisive  moments,  he  responded : 

"  The  youngest  of  the  kings  I  Well,  then,  I  will 
drive  all  the  kings  from  their  thrones,  and  found  a  new 
dynasty :  then,  they  will  have  to  recognize  me  as  the  old- 
est prince  of  all." 


92  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

CHAPTER  lY. 

THE   CALUMNY. 

The  union  of  Hortense  with  Bonaparte's  brother  had 
not  been  followed  by  such  good  results  for  her  as  Jose- 
phine had  anticipated.  She  had  made  a  most  unfortu- 
nate selection,  for  Louis  Bonaparte  was,  of  all  the  first 
consul's  brothers,  the  one  who  concerned  himself  the 
least  about  politics,  and  was  the  least  likely  to  engage  in 
any  intrigue.  Besides,  this  alliance  had  materially  dimin^ 
ished  the  affection  which  Louis  had  always  previouslj 
manifested  for  Josephine.  He  blamed  her,  in  the  depthgj 
of  his  noble  and  upright  heart,  for  having  been  so  ego- 
tistic as  to  sacrifice  the  happiness  of  her  daughter  to  her 
own  personal  welfare ;  he  blamed  her,  too,  for  having 
forced  him  into  a  marriage  which  love  had  not  con- 
cluded, and,  although  he  never  sided  with  her  enemies, 
Josephine  had,  at  least,  lost  a  friend  in  him. 

The  wedded  life  of  this  young  couple  was  something 
unusually  strange.  They  had  openly  confessed  the  repul- 
sion they  felt  for  each  other,  and  reciprocally  made  no 
secret  of  the  fact  that  they  had  been  driven  into  this 
union  against  their  own  wishes.  In  this  singular  inter- 
change of  confidence,  they  went  so  far  as  to  commiserate 
each  other,  and  to  condole  with  one  another  as  friends, 
over  the  wretchedness  they  endured  in  their  married 
bondage. 

They  said  frankly  to  each  other  that  they  could  never 


THE  CALUMNY.  95 

love ;  that  they  detested  one  anotlier :  but  they  so  keenly 
felt  a  mutual  compassion,  that  out  of  that  very  compas- 
sion— that  very  hatred  itself — love  might  possibly  spring 
into  being. 

Louis  could  already  sit  for  hours  together  beside  his 
wife,  busied  with  the  effort  to  divert  her  with  amusing 
remarks,  and  to  drive  away  the  clouds  that  obscured  her 
brow  ;  already,  too,  Hortense  had  come  to  regard  it  as 
her  holiest  and  sweetest  duty  to  endeavor  to  compensate 
her  husband,  by  her  kindly  deportment  toward  him,  and 
the  delicate  and  attentive  respect  that  distinguished  her 
bearing,  for  the  unhappiness  he  felt  beside  her ;  already 
bad  both,  in  line,  begun  to  console  each  other  with  the 
reflection  that  the  child  which  Hortense  now  bore  beneath 
her  heart  would,  one  day,  be  to  them  a  compensation  for 
their  ill-starred  marriage  and  their  lost  freedom. 

"  When  I  present  you  with  a  son,"  said  Hortense, 
Bmiling,  "  and  when  he  calls  you  by  the  sweet  name  of 
*  father,'  you  will  forgive  me  for  being  his  mother." 

"  And  when  you  press  that  son  to  your  heart — when 
jou  feel  that  you  love  him  with  boundless  affection,"  said 
Louis,  "  you  will  pardon  me  for  being  your  husband,  and 
jou  will  cease  to  hate  me,  at  least,  for  I  will  be  the  father 
of  your  darling  child." 

Had  sufficient  time  been  allotted  to  these  young,  pure, 
and  innocent  hearts,  to  comprehend  one  another,  they 
would  have  overcome  their  unhappiness,  and  love  would 
have  sprung  up  at  last  from  hatred.  But  the  world  was 
pitiless  to  them ;  it  had  no  compassion  for  their  youth 


94  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

and  their  sufferings ;  with  cruel  hands  it  dashed  away 
this  tender  blossoming  of  nascent  affection,  which  was 
beginning  to  expand  in  their  hearts.  Josephine  had 
wedded  Hortense  to  her  brother-in-law  in  order  to  secure 
in  him  an  ally  in  the  family,  and  to  keep  her  daughter  by 
her  side  ;  and  now  that  daughter  was  made  the  target  of 
insidious  attacks  and  malicious  calumnies — now  another 
plan  was  adopted  in  order  to  remove  Hortense  from  the 
scene.  The  conspirators  had  not  succeeded  in  their  de- 
signs by  means  of  a  matrimonial  alliance,  so  they  would 
now  try  the  effect  of  calumny. 

They  went  about  whispering  from  ear  to  ear  that 
Bonaparte  had  married  his  step-daughter  to  his  brother, 
simply  because  he  was  attached  to  her  himself,  and  had 
been  jealous  of  Duroc. 

These  slanders  were  carried  so  far  as  to  hint  that  the 
child  whose  birth  Hortense  expected  was  more  nearly  re- 
lated to  Bonaparte  than  merely  through  the  fact  that  his 
step-daughter  was  his  brother's  wife. 

This  was  an  infernal  but  skilfully-planned  calumny ; 
for  those  who  devised  it  well  knew  how  Bonaparte  de- 
tested the  merest  suspicion  of  such  immorality,  how  strict 
he  was  in  his  own  principles,  and  how  repulsive  it  there- 
fore would  be  to  him  to  find  himself  made  the  object  of 
such  infamous  slanders. 

The  conspirators  calculated  that,  in  order  to  terminate 
these  evil  rumors,  the  first  consul  would  send  his  brother 
and  Hortense  away  to  a  distance,  and  that  the  fated  Jose- 
phine, being  thus  isolated,  could  also  be  the  more  readily 


THE  CALUMNY.  95 

removed.  Thus  Bonaparte,  being  separated  from  his 
guardian  angel,  would  no  longer  hear  her  whispering  : 

"  Bonaparte,  do  not  ascend  the  throne  !  Be  content 
with  the  glory  of  the  greatest  of  mankind  !  Place  no 
diadem  upon  thy  brows  ;  do  not  make  thyself  a 
king ! " 

In  Paris,  as  I  have  said,  these  shameful  calumnies 
were  but  very  lightly  whispered,  but  abroad  they  were 
only  the  more  loudly  heard.  Bonaparte's  enemies  got 
hold  of  the  scandalous  story,  and  made  a  weapon  of  it 
with  which  to  assail  him  as  a  hero. 

One  morning  Bonaparte  was  reading  an  English  news- 
paper which  had  always  been  hostile  to  him,  and  which, 
as  he  well  knew,  was  the  organ  of  Count  d'Artois,  then 
residing  at  Hartwell.  As  he  continued  to  read,  a  dark 
fihadow  stole  over  his  face,  and  he  crumpled  the  paper  in 
his  clinched  fist  with  a  sudden  and  vehement  motion. 
Then  as  suddenly  again  his  countenance  cleared,  and  a 
proud  smile  flitted  across  it.  He  had  his  master  of  cere- 
monies summoned  to  his  presence,  and  bade  him  issue 
the  necessary  invitations  for  a  court  ball  to  be  given,  on 
the  evening  of  the  next  day,  at  St.  Cloud.  He  then  went 
to  Josephine  to  inform  her  in  person  of  the  projected 
f^te^  and  to  say  that  he  wished  her  to  tell  Hortense,  who 
had  been  ailing  for  some  time,  that  he  particularly  desired 
her  to  be  present. 

Hortense  had  been  too  long  accustomed  to  obey  her 
Btep-father's  requests,  to  venture  a  refusal.  She  rose, 
therefore,  from  her  conch  on  which  she  had  been  in  the 


96  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

habit,  for  weeks  past,  of  reclining,  busied  with  her  own 
dreams  and  musings,  and  bade  her  waiting  women  pre- 
pare her  attire  for  the  ball.  Still  she  felt  unwell,  and 
seriously  burdened  by  this  festive  attire,  which  harmo- 
nized so  little  with  her  feelings,  and  was  so  far  from  be- 
coming to  her  figure,  for  she  was  only  a  few  weeks  from 
her  confinement ;  but  with  her  gentle  and  yielding  dis- 
position she  did  not  venture,  even  in  thought,  to  murmur 
at  the  compulsion  imposed  upon  her  by  her  step-father's 
command.  She  therefore  repaired,  at  the  appointed  hour, 
to  the  ball  at  St.  Cloud.  Bonaparte  stepped  forward  to 
meet  her  with  a  friendly  smile,  and,  instead  of  thanking 
her  for  coming  at  all,  earnestly  urged  her  to  dance. 

Hortense  gazed  at  him  with  amazement.  She  knew 
that  hitherto  Bonaparte  had"  always  sought  to  avoid  the 
eight  of  a  woman  in  her  condition ;  he  had  frequently 
said  that  he  thought  there  was  nothing  more  indecent 
than  for  a  female  to  join  in  the  dance  under  such  circum- 
stances, and  now  it  was  he  who  asked  her  to  do  that  very 
thing. 

For  this  reason  Hortense  hesitated  at  first  to  comply, 
but  Bonaparte  grew  only  the  more  pressing  and  vehement 
in  his  request. 

"  You  know  how  I  like  to  see  you  dance,  Hortense," 
he  said,  with  his  irresistible  smile  ;  "  so  do  this  much  for 
me,  even  if  you  take  the  floor  only  once,  and  that  for  but 
a  single  contredanceP 

And  Hortense,  although  most  reluctant,  although 
blushing  with  shame  at  the  idea  of  exposing  herself  in 


THE  CALUMNY.  97 

Buch  unseemlj  shape  to  the  gaze  of  all,  obeyed  and  joined 
the  dances. 

This  took  place  in  the  evening — how  greatly  surprised, 
then,  was  Hortense  when  next  morning  she  found,  in  the 
paper  that  she  usually  read,  a  poem,  extolling  her  per- 
formance in  words  of  ravishing  flattery,  and  referring  to 
the  fact  that,  notwithstanding  her  advanced  state  of  preg- 
nancy, she  had  consented  to  tread  a  measure  in  the  con- 
tredance,  as  a  peculiar  trait  of  amiability ! 

Hortense,  however,  far  from  feeling  flattered  by  this 
very  emphatic  piece  of  verse,  took  it  as  an  affront,  and 
hastened  at  once  to  the  Tuileries,  to  complain  to  her 
mother,  and  to  ask  her  how  it  was  possible  that,  so  early 
as  the  very  next  morning,  there  could  be  verses  published 
in  the  newspapers  concerning  what  had  taken  place  at 
the  ball  on  the  preceding  evening. 

Bonaparte,  who  happened  to  be  with  Josephine  when 
Hortense  came  in,  and  was  the  first  to  be  questioned  by 
her,  gave  her  only  an  evasive  and  jocose  reply,  and  with- 
drew. Hortense  then  turned  to  her  mother,  who  was 
leaning  over  on  the  divan,  her  eyes  reddened  with  weep- 
ing and  her  heart  oppressed  with  grief.  To  her,  Bona- 
parte had  given  no  evasive  answer,  but  had  told  the 
whole  truth,  and  Josephine's  heart  was  at  that  moment 
too  full  of  wretchedness,  too  overladen  with  this  fresh 
and  bitter  trouble,  for  her  possibly  to  retain  it  within  her 
own  breast. 

Hortense  insisted  upon  an  explanation,  and  her  moth- 
er gave  it    She  told  her  that  Bonaparte  had  got  the  poet 


98  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

Esmenard  to  write  the  verses  beforehand,  and  that  it  was 
for  this  reason  that  he  had  urged  her  to  dance ;  that  he 
had  ordered  the  ball  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  have 
her  dance,  and  have  the  poem  that  complimented  her  and 
referred  to  her  pregnancy  pubhshed  in  the  next  day's 
paper. 

Then,  when  Hortense,  in  terror,  begged  to  be  in- 
formed of  the  ground  for  all  these  proceedings,  Jose- 
phine had  the  cruel  courage  to  tell  her  of  the  slanders 
that  had  been  circulated  in  reference  to  herself  and  Bona- 
parte, and  to  say  that  he  had  arranged  the  poem,  the  ball, 
and  her  participation  in  the  dance,  because,  on  the  pre- 
ceding day,  he  had  read  in  an  English  journal  the  calum- 
nious statement  that  Madame  Louis  Bonaparte  had  safely 
given  birth  to  a  vigorous  and  healthy  child  some  weeks 
previously,  and  he  wished  in  this  manner  to  refute  the 
malicious  statement. 

Hortense  received  this  fresh  wound  with  a  cold  smile 
of  scorn.  She  had  not  a  word  of  anger  or  indignation 
for  this  unheard-of  injury,  this  shameless  slander ;  she 
neither  wept  nor  complained,  but,  as  she  rose  to  take 
leave  of  her  mother,  she  swooned  away,  and  it  required 
hours  of  exertion  to  restore  her  to  consciousness. 

A  few  weeks  later,  Hortense  was  delivered  of  a  dead 
male  infant,  and  so  passed  away  her  last  dream  of  happi- 
ness ;  for  thus  was  destroyed  the  hope  of  a  better  under- 
standing between  her  and  her  husband. 

Hortense  rose  from  her  sick-bed  with  a  firm,  deter- 
mined heart.      In  those  long,  lonely  days  that  she  had 


THE  CALUMNY.  99 

passed  during  her  confinement,  she  had  the  time  and  op- 
portunity to  meditate  on  many  things,  and  keenly  to  esti- 
mate her  whole  present  position  and  probable  future. 
She  had  now  become  a  mother,  without  having  a  child  ; 
yet  the  resolute  energy  of  a  mother  remained  to  her. 
The  youthful,  gentle,  dreamy,  enthusiastic  girl  had  now 
become  transformed  into  a  determined,  active,  energetic 
woman,  that  would  no  longer  bow  submissively  to  the 
blows  of  fortune,  but  would  meet  them  with  an  open  and 
defiant  brow.  Since  her  fate  could"  not  be  changed,  she 
accepted  it,  all  the  while  resolved  no  longer  to  bend  to  its 
yoke,  but  to  Bubdue  it,  and  try  to  be  happy  by  force  of 
resolution ;  and,  since  a  charming,  peaceful,  and  harmo- 
nious fireside  at  home  was  denied  her,  to  at  least  make 
her  house  a  pleasant  gathering-point  for  her  friends — for 
men  of  scientific  and  artistic  attainments,  for  poets  and 
dingers,  for  painters  and  sculptors,  and  for  men  of  learn- 
ing. Ere  long,  all  Paris  was  talking  about  Madame  Louis 
Bonaparte's  drawing-rooms,  the  agreeable  and  elegant 
entertainments  that  were  given  there,  and  the  conoerts 
there  arranged,  in  which  the  first  singers  of  the  day  exe- 
cuted pieces  that  Hortense  had  composed,  and  Talma  re- 
cited, with  his  wonderful,  sonorous  voice,  the  poems  that 
she  had  written.  Every  one  was  anxious  for  admission 
to  these  entertainments,  in  which  the  participants  not 
merely  performed  their  parts,  but  greatly  enjoyed  them- 
eelves  as  well ;  where  the  guests  indulged  in  no  backbit- 
ing or  abuse,  but  found  more  worthy  and  elevated  sub- 
jects of  conversation ;  where,  in  fine,  they  could  admiae 


100  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

the  works  of  poets  and  artists,  and  enjoy  the  newly- 
awakened  intellectual  spirit  of  the  age. 

Hortense  had  firmly  made  up  her  mind  that,  since  she 
had  resigned  herself  to  accept  the  burden  of  existence, 
she  would  strive  to  render  it  as  agreeable  as  possible,  and 
not  to  see  any  of  its  hateful  and  repulsive  features,  but  to 
turn  away  from  them  with  a  noble  and  disdainful  pride. 
She  had  never  even  referred  to  the  frightful  calumnies 
which  her  mother  had  privately  made  known  to  her,  nor 
had  she  deemed  any  defence  or  proof  of  her  innocence  at 
all  necessary.  She  felt  that  there  were  certain  accusa- 
tions against  which  to  even  undertake  defence  is  to  ad- 
mit their  possibility,  and  which,  therefore,  could  only  be 
combated  by  silence.  The  slanders  that  had  been  flung 
at  her  lay  in  a  plane  so  far  beneath  her,  that  they  could 
not  rise  high  enough  to  reach  her,  but  fell  powerless  at 
her  feet,  whence  she  did  not  deem  it  even  worth  her  while 
to  thrust  them. 

But  Bonaparte  continued  to  feel  outraged  and  wound' 
ed  by  this  vile  story,  and  it  annoyed  him  deeply  to  learn 
that  these  rumors  were  still  spread  abroad,  and  that  his 
foes  still  bestirred  themselves  to  keep  him  ever  on  the 
alert,  and,  if  possible,  to  dim  the  lustre  of  his  gloriously- 
won  laurels  by  the  shadow  of  an  infamous  crime. 

"  There  are  still  rumors  abroad  of  a  liaison  between 
me  and  Hortense,"  said  he  one  day  to  Bourrienne.  "  They 
have  even  invented  the  most  repulsive  stories  concerning 
her  first  infant.  At  the  time,  I  thought  that  these  calum- 
nies were  circulated  among  the  public  because  the  lattei 


THE  CALUMNY.  101 

60  earnestly  desired  that  I  might  have  a  child  to  inherit 
my  name.     But  it  is  still  spoken  of,  is  it  not-?*" •  •  • 

"Yes,  general,  it  is  still  spoken  of;  'knd  1  confess 
that  I  did  not  believe  this  calumny  would  be  po  loug.co^y 
tinned." 

"  This  is  really  abominable ! "  exclaimed  Bonaparte, 
his  eyes  flashing  with  anger.  "  You,  Bourrienne,  you 
best  know  what  truth  there  is  in  it.  You  have  heard 
and  seen  all ;  not  the  smallest  circumstance  could  escape 
you.  You  were  her  confidant  in  her  love-affair  with 
Duroc.  I  expect  you  to  clear  me  of  this  infamous  re- 
proach if  you  should  some  day  write  my  history.  Pos- 
terity shall  not  associate  my  name  with  such  infamy.  I 
shall  depend  on  you,  Bourrienne,  and  you  will  at  least 
admit  that  you  have  never  believed  in  this  abominable 
calumny  ? " 

"  No,  never,  general." 

"  I  shall  rely  on  you,  Bourrienne,  not  only  on  my  own 
account,  but  for  the  sake  of  poor  Hortense.  She  is,  with- 
out this,  unhappy  enough,  as  is  my  brother  also.  I  am 
concerned  about  this,  because  I  love  them  both,  and  be- 
cause this  very  circumstance  gives  color  to  the  reports 
which  idle  chatterboxes  have  circulated  regarding  my  re- 
lations to  her.  Therefore,  bear  this  in  mind  when  you 
write  of  me  hereafter." 

"  I  shall  do  so,  general ;  I  shall  tell  the  truth,  but,  un- 
fortunately, I  can  not  compel  the  world  to  believe  the 
truth." 

Bourrienne  has,  at  all  events,  kept  his  word,  and 


102  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

spoken  the  truth.  With  deep  indignation  he  spurns  the 
calujnny. with  which  it  has  been  attempted  to  sully  the 
memory  of  Bonaparte  and  Hortense,  even  down  to  our 
time  ;  -  and,  in  his  anger,  he  even  forgets  the  elegant  and 
considerate  language  of  the  courteous  diplomat,  which  is 
elsewhere  always  characteristic  of  his  writings. 

"  He  lies  in  his  throat,"  says  Bourrienne,  "  who  asserts 
that  Bonaparte  entertained  other  feelings  for  Hortense 
than  those  a  step-father  should  entertain  for  his  step- 
daughter !  Hortense  entertained  for  the  first  consul  a 
feeling  of  reverential  fear.  She  always  spoke  to  him 
tremblingly.  She  never  ventured  to  approach  him  with 
a  petition.  She  was  in  the  habit  of  coming  to  me,  and  I 
then  submitted  her  wishes ;  and  only  when  Bonaparte 
received  them  unfavorably  did  I  mention  the  name  of 
the  petitioner.  '  The  silly  thing  ! '  said  the  first  consul ; 
*  why  does  she  not  speak  to  me  herself  ?  Is  she  afraid  of 
me  ? '  Napoleon  always  entertained  a  fatherly  affection 
for  her ;  since  his  marriage,  he  loved  her  as  a  father 
would  have  loved  his  child.  I,  who  for  years  was  a  wit- 
ness of  her  actions  in  the  most  private  relations  of  life,  I 
declare  that  I  have  never  seen  or  heard  the  slightest  cir- 
cumstance that  would  tend  to  convict  her  of  a  criminal  in- 
timacy. One  must  consider  this  calumny  as  belonging  to 
the  category  of  those  which  malice  so  willingly  circulates 
about  those  persons  whose  career  has  been  brilliant,  and 
which  credulity  and  envy  so  willingly  believe.  I  declare 
candidly  that,  if  I  entertained  the  slightest  doubt  with  re- 
gard to  this  horrible  calumny,  I  would  say  so.    But  Bona- 


KING  OR  EMPEROR.  103 

parte  is  no  more  !  Impartial  history  must  not  and  shall 
not  give  countenance  to  this  reproach ;  she  should  not 
naake  of  a  father  and  friend  a  libertine  !  Malicious  and 
hostile  authors  have  asserted,  without,  however,  adducing 
any  proof,  that  a  criminal  intimacy  existed  between  Bona- 
parte and  Hortense.  A  falsehood,  an  unworthy  false- 
hood I  And  this  report  has  been  generally  current,  not 
only  in  France,  but  throughout  all  Europe.  Alas !  can 
it,  then,  be  true  that  calumny  exercises  so  mighty  a  charm 
that,  when  it  has  once  taken  possession  of  a  man,  he  can 
never  be  freed  from  it  again  ? "        « 


CHAPTER  Y. 

KING   OB   EMPEBOB. 

Josephine's  entreaties  had  been  fruitless,  or  Bona- 
parte had,  at  least,  only  yielded  to  them  in  their  literal 
sense.  She  had  said  :  "  I  entreat  you,  do  not  make  your- 
self a  king  ! "  Bonaparte  did  not  make  himself  king,  he 
made  himself  emperor.  He  did  not  take  up  the  crown 
that  had  fallen  from  the  head  of  the  Bourbons ;  he  cre- 
ated a  new  one  for  himself — a  crown  which  the  French 
people  and  Senate  had,  however,  offered  him.  The  revo- 
intion  still  stood  a  threatening  spectre  behind  the  French 
people  ;  its  return  was  feared,  and,  since  the  discovery  of 
the  conspiracy  of  Georges,  Moreau,  and  Pichegru,  the 
people  anxiously  asked  themselves  what  was  to  become 


104  QUEEN  HORTENSB. 

of  France  if  the  conspirators  should  succeed  in  murder- 
ing Bonaparte ;  and  when  the  republic  should  again  be 
sent  adrift,  without  a  pilot,  on  the  wild  sea  of  revolution. 
The  people  demanded  that  their  institutions  should  be 
securely  established  and  maintained,  and  believed  that 
this  could  only  be  accomplished  by  a  dynasty — by  a  mo- 
narchical form  of  government.  The  consulate  for  life 
must  therefore  be  changed  into  an  hereditary  empire. 
Had  not  Bonaparte  himself  said  :  "  One  can  be  emperor 
of  a  republic,  but  not  king  of  a  republic ;  these  two  terms 
are  incompatible  ! "  They  desired  to  make  IN'apoleon 
emperor,  because  they  flattered  themselves  that  in  so 
doing  they  should  still  be  able  to  preserve  the  repubhc. 

On  the  18th  of  May,  of  the  year  1804,  the  plan  that 
had  been  so  long  and  carefully  prepared  was  carried  into 
execution.  On  the  18th  of  May,  the  Senate  repaired  to 
St.  Cloud,  to  entreat  Bonaparte,  in  the  name  of  the  peo- 
ple and  army,  to  accept  the  imperial  dignity,  and  ex- 
change the  Roman  chair  of  a  consul  for  the  French 
throne  of  an  emperor. 

Cambaceres,  the  late  second  consul  of  the  republic, 
stood  at  the  head  of  the  Senate,  and  upon  him  devolved 
the  duty  of  imparting  to  Bonaparte  the  wishes  of  the 
French  people.  Cambaceres — who,  as  a  member  of  the 
Convention,  had  voted  for  the  condemnation  of  Louis. 
XYI.,  in  order  that  royalty  should  be  forever  banished 
from  French  soil — this  same  Cambaceres  was  now  the 
first  to  salute  Bonaparte  with  "imperial  majesty,"  and 
with  the  little  word,  so  full  of  significance,  "  sire."     He 


KING  OR  EMPEROR.  105 

rewarded  Oambaceres  for  this  by  writing  to  him  on  the 
same  day,  and  appointing  him  high  constable  of  the  em- 
pire, as  the  first  act  of  his  imperial  rule.  In  this  letter, 
the  first  docmnent  in  which  Bonaparte  signed  himself 
merely  Napoleon,  the  emperor  retained  the  repubhcan 
style  of  writing.  He  addressed  Cambac6res  as  "  citizen 
consul,"  and  followed  the  revolutionary  method  of  reck- 
oning time,  his  letter  being  dated  "  the  20th  Floreal,  of 
the  year  12." 

The  second  act  of  the  emperor,  on  the  first  day  of  his 
new  dignity,  was  to  invest  the  members  of  his  family  also 
with  new  dignities,  and  to  confer  upon  them  the  rank  of 
Princes  of  France,  with  the  title  "imperial  highness." 
Moreover,  he  made  his  brother  Joseph  prince  elector, 
and  his  brother  Louis  connetable.  On  the  same  day  it 
devolved  upon  Louis,  in  his  new  dignity,  to  present  the 
generals  and  staff  officers  to  the  emperor,  and  then  to 
conduct  them  to  the  empress — the  Empress  Josephine. 

The  prophecy  of  the  negress  of  Martinique  was  now 
fulfilled.  Josephine  was  "more  than  a  queen."  But 
Josephine,  in  the  midst  of  the  splendor  of  her  new  dig- 
nity, could  only  think,  with  an  anxious  heart,  of  the 
prophecy  of  the  clairvoyante  of  Paris,  who  had  told  her, 
"You  will  wear  a  crown,  but  only  for  a  short  time." 
Sihe  felt  that  this  wondrous  fortune  could  not  last  long — 
Mi9.t  the  new  emperor  would  have  to  do  as  tne  kings  or 
old  had  done,  and  sacrifice  his  dearest  possession  to  Fate, 
in  order  to  appease  the  hungry  demons  of  vengeance 
and  envy ;  and  that  he  would,  therefore,  sacrifice  her, 


106  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

in   order  to  secure  the  perpetuity  of  his  fortune  and 
dynasty. 

It  was  this  that  weighed  down  the  heart  of  the  new 
empress,  and  made  her  shrink  in  alarm  from  her  new 
grandeur.  It  was,  therefore,  with  a  feeHng  of  deep  anxi- 
ety that  she  took  possession  of  the  new  titles  and  honors, 
that  Fate  had  showered  upon  her,  as  from  an  inexhausti- 
ble horn  of  plenty.  With  a  degree  of  alarm,  and  almost 
with  shame,  she  heard  herself  addressed  with  the  titles 
with  which  she  had  addressed  the  Queen  of  France  years 
before,  in  these  same  halls,  when  she  came  to  the  Tuile- 
ries  as  Marquise  de  Beauharnais,  to  do  homage  to  the 
beautiful  Marie  Antoinette.  She  had  died  on  the  scaf- 
fold and  now  Josephine  was  the  "  majesty "  that  sat  en^ 
throned  in  the  Tuileries,  her  brilliant  court  assembled 
around  her,  while  in  a  retired  nook  of  England  the- 
legitimate  King  of  France  was  leading  a  lonely  and 
gloomy  life. 

Josephine,  as  we  have  said,  was  a  good  royalist ;  and,, 
as  empress,  she  still  mourned  over  the  fate  of  the  unfor- 
tunate Bourbons,  and  esteemed  it  her  sacred  duty  to* 
assist  and  advise  those  who,  true  to  their  principles  and 
duties,  had  followed  the  royal  family,  or  had  emigrated, 
in  order  that  they  might,  at  least,  not  be  compelled  to  do 
homage  to  the  new  system.  Her  purse  was  always  at 
the  service  of  the  emigrants ;  and,  if  Josephine  continu- 
ally made  debts,  in  spite  of  her  enormous  monthly  allow- 
ance, her  extravagance  was  not  alone  the  cause,  but  alsa 
her  kindly,  generous  heart ;  for  she  was  in  the  habit  of 


KING   OR  EMPEROR.  107 

setting  apart  the  half  of  her  monthly  income  for  the 
relief  of  poor  emigrants,  and,  no  matter  how  great  her 
own  embarrassment,  or  how  pressing  her  creditors,  she 
never  suffered  the  amount  devoted  to  the  relief  of  mis- 
fortune and  the  reward  of  fidelity  to  be  applied  to  any 
other  purpose.* 

Now  that  Josephine  was  an  empress,  her  daughter, 
the  wife  of  the  High  Constable  of  France,  took  the  sec- 
ond position  at  the  brilliant  court  of  the  emperor.  The 
daughter  of  the  beheaded  viscount  was  now  a  "  Princess 
of  France,"  an  "imperial  highness,"  who  must  be  ap- 
proached with  reverence,  who  had  her  court  and  her 
maids  of  honor,  and  whose  liberty  and  personal  inclina- 
tions, as  was  also  the  case  with  her  mother,  were  con- 
fined in  the  fetters  of  the  strict  etiquette  which  Napoleon 
required  to  be  observed  at  the  new  imperial  court. 

But  neither  Josephine  nor  Hortense  allowed  herself 
to  be  blinded  by  this  new  splendor.  A  crown  could  con- 
fer upon  Josephine  no  additional  happiness;  glittering 
titles  could  neither  enhance  Hortense's  youth  and  beauty, 
nor  alleviate  her  secret  misery.  She  would  have  been 
contented  to  live  in  retirement,  at  the  side  of  a  beloved 
husband ;  her  proud  position  could  not  indemnify  her 
for  her  lost  woman^s  happiness. 

But  Fate  seemed  to  pity  the  noble,  gentle  being,  who 
knew  how  to  bear  misery  and  grandeur  with  the  same 
smiling  dignity,  and  offered  her  a  recompense  for  the 

*  M^moires  sor  la  reine  Hortense,  par  le  Baron  van  Schelten,  vol 


108  QUEEN  HORTENSB. 

overthrow  of  her  first  mother's  hope — a  new  hope — she 
promised  to  become  a  mother  again. 

Josephine  received  this  intelligence  with  delight,  for 
her  daughter's  hope  was  a  hope  for  her  too.  If  Hortense 
should  give  birth  to  a  son,  the  gods  might  be  reconciled, 
and  misfortune  be  banished  from  the  head  of  the  em- 
press. With  this  son,  the  dynasty  of  the  new  imperial 
family  would  be  assured ;  this  son  could  be  the  heir  of 
the  imperial  crown,  and  Napoleon  could  well  adopt  as 
his  own  the  child  who  was  at  the  same  time  his  nephew 
and  his  grandson. 

JSTapoleon  promised  Josephine  that  he  would  do  this ; 
that  he  would  rather  content  himself  with  an  adopted 
son,  in  whom  the  blood  of  the  emperor  and  of  the  em- 
press was  mixed,  than  be  compelled  to  separate  himself 
from  her,  from  his  Josephine.  IS^apoleon  still  loved  his 
wife ;  he  still  compared  with  all  he  thought  good  and 
beautiful,  the  woman  who  shed  around  his  grandeur  the 
lustre  of  her  grace  and  loveliness. 

When  the  people  greeted  their  new  emperor  with 
loud  cries  of  joy  and  thunders  of  applause,  IN'apoleon, 
his  countenance  illumined  with  exultation,  exclaimed: 
"  How  glorious  a  music  is  this !  These  acclamations  and 
greetings  sound  as  sweet  and  soft  as  the  voice  of  Jose- 
phine! How  proud  and  happy  I  am,  to  be  loved  by 
euch  a  people ! "  * 

But  his  proud  ambition  was  not  yet  sated.  As  he 
had  once  said,  upon  entering  the  Tuileries  as  first  consul, 
*  Bourrienne,  vol.  iv.,  p.  228. 


KING  OR  EMPEROR.  109 

"  It  is  not  enough  to  he  in  the  Tuileries ;  one  must  also 
remain  there  " — he  now  said  :  "  It  is  not  enough  to  have 
been  made  emperor  by  the  French  people;  one  must 
also  have  received  his  consecration  as  emperor  from  the 
Pope  of  Eome." 

And  Napoleon  was  now  mighty  enough  to  give  laws 
to  the  world  ;  not  only  to  bend  France,  but  also  foreign 
sovereigns,  to  his  will. 

Napoleon  desired  for  his  crown  the  papal  consecra- 
tion ;  and  the  Pope  left  the  holy  city  and  repaired  to 
Paris,  to  give  the  new  emperor  the  blessing  of  the 
Church  in  the  Cathedral  of  Notre-Dame.  This  was 
a  new  halo  around  Napoleon's  head — a  new,  an  un- 
bounded triumph,  which  he  celebrated  over  France,  over 
the  whole  world  and  its  prejudices,  and  over  all  the  dy- 
nasties by  the  "  grace  of  God."  The  Pope  came  to  Paris 
to  crown  the  emperor.  The  German  emperors  had  been 
compelled  to  make  a  pilgrimage  to  Rome,  to  receive  the 
papal  benediction,  and  now  the  Pope  made  a  pilgrimage 
to  Paris  to  crown  the  French  emperor,  and  acknowledge 
the  son  of  the  Revolution  as  the  consecrated  son  of  the 
Church.  All  France  was  intoxicated  with  delight  at  this 
intelligence;  all  France  adored  the  hero,  who  made  of 
the  wonders  of  fiction  a  reality,  and  converted  even  the 
holy  chair  at  Rome  into  the  footstool  of  his  grandeur. 
Napoleon's  journey  with  Josephine  through  France,  un- 
dertaken while  they  awaited  the  Pope's  coming,  was, 
therefore,  a  single,  continuous  triumph.  It  was  not  only 
the  people  who  received  him  with  shouts  of  joy,  but  the 


110  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

Church  also  sang  to  him,  everywhere,  her  scmctnis,  sanC" 
tus,  and  the  priests  received  him  at  the  doors  of  their 
churches  with  loud  benedictions,  extolling  him  as  the 
savior  of  France.  Everywhere,  the  imperial  couple  was 
received  with  universal  exultation,  with  the  ringing  of 
bells,  with  triumphal  arches,  and  solemn  addresses  of 
welcome,  the  latter  partaking  sometimes  of  a  transcend- 
ental nature. 

"  God  created  Bonaparte,"  said  the  Prefect  of  Arras, 
in  his  enthusiastic  address  to  the  emperor — "  God  created 
Bonaparte,  and  then  He  rested."  And  Count  Louis  of 
Karbonne,  at  that  time  not  yet  won  over  by  the  emperor, 
and  not  yet  grand-marshal  of  the  imperial  court,  whis- 
pered, quite  audibly :  "  God  would  have  done  better  had 
He  rested  a  httle  sooner ! " 

Finally,  the  intelligence  overran  all  France,  that  the 
wonder,  in  which  they  had  not  yet  dared  to  believe,  had 
become  reality,  and  that  Pope  Pius  YII.  had  crossed  the 
boundaries  of  France,  and  was  now  approaching  the 
capital.  The  Holy  Father  of  the  Church,  that  had  now 
arisen  victoriously  from  the  ruins  of  the  revolution,  was 
everywhere  received  by  the  people  and  authorities  with 
the  greatest  honor.  The  old  royal  palace  at  Fontaine- 
bleau  had,  by  order  of  the  emperor,  been  refurnished  with 
imperial  magnificence,  and,  as  a  peculiarly  delicate  atten- 
tion, the  Pope's  bedchamber  had  been  arranged  in  exact 
imitation  of  his  bedchamber  in  the  Quirinal  at  Kome. 
The  emperor,  empress,  and  their  suite,  now  repaired  to 
Fontainebleau,  to  receive  Pope  Pius  YII.    The  whole 


KING  OR  EMPEROR.  HI 

ceremony  had,  however,  been  previously  arranged,  and 
understanding  had  with  the  Pope  concerning  the  various 
questions  of  etiquette.  In  conformity  with  this  prear- 
ranged ceremony,  when  the  couriers  announced  the  ap- 
proach of  the  Pope,  Napoleon  rode  out  to  the  chase,  to 
give  himself  the  appearance  of  meeting  the  Pope  acci- 
dentally on  his  way.  The  equipages  and  the  imperial 
court  had  taken  position  in  the  forest  of  Nemours.  Na- 
poleon, however,  attired  in  hunting-dress,  rode,  with  his 
suite,  to  the  summit  of  a  little  hill,  which  the  Pope's  car- 
riage had  just  reached.  The  Pope  at  once  ordered  a 
halt,  and  the  emperor  also  brought  his  suite  to  a  stand 
with  a  gesture  of  his  hand.  A  brief  interval  of  profound 
silence  followed.  All  felt  that  a  great  historical  event 
was  taking  place,  and  the  eyes  of  all  were  fastened  in 
wondering  expectation  on  the  two  chief  figures  of  this 
scene — on  the  emperor,  who  sat  there  on  his  horse,  in 
his  simple  huntsman's  attire;  and  on  the  Pope,  in  his 
gold-embroidered  robes,  leaning  back  in  his  equipage, 
drawn  by  six  horses. 

As  Napoleon  dismounted,  the  Pope  hastened  to  de- 
scend from  his  carriage,  hesitating  a  moment,  however, 
after  he  had  already  placed  his  foot  on  the  carriage- 
step  ;  but  Napoleon's  foot  had  already  touched  the  earth. 
Pius  could,  therefore,  no  longer  hesitate ;  he  must  make 
up  his  mind  to  step,  in  his  white,  gold-embroidered  satin 
slippers,  on  the  wet  soil,  softened  by  a  shower  of  rain, 
that  had  fallen  on  the  previous  day.  The  emperor's 
hunting-boots  were  certainly  much  better  adapted  to  this 


112  QUEEN  HORTENSB. 

meeting  in  the  mud  than  the  Pope's  white  satin  slip- 
pers. 

Emperor  and  Pope  approached  and  embraced  each 
other  tenderly;  then,  through  the  inattention  of  the 
coachmen,  seemingly,  the  imperial  equipage  was  set  in 
motion,  and,  in  its  rapid  advance,  interrupted  this  tender 
embrace.  It  seemed  to  be  the  merest  accident  that  the 
emperor  stood  on  the  right,  and  the  Pope  on  the  left 
side  of  the  equipage,  that  had  now  been  brought  to  a 
stand  again.  The  two  doors  of  the  carriage  were  simul- 
taneously thrown  open  by  the  lackeys ;  at  the  same  time, 
the  Pope  entered  the  carriage  on  the  left,  and  the  em- 
peror on  the  right  side,  both  seating  themselves  side  by 
side  at  the  same  time.  This  settled  the  question  of  eti- 
quette. IN'either  had  preceded  the  other,  but  the  em- 
peror occupied  the  seat  of  honor  on  the  Pope's  right. 

The  coronation  of  the  imperial  pair  took  place  on 
the  2d  of  December,  1804,  in  the  Cathedral  of  IS'otre- 
Dame.  l^ot  only  all  Paris,  but  all  France,  was  in  motion 
on  this  day.  An  immense  concourse  of  people  surged 
to  and  fro  in  the  streets ;  the  windows  of  all  the  houses 
were  filled  with  richly-adorned  and  beautiful  women,  the 
bells  were  ringing  in  all  the  churches,  and  joyous  music, 
intermixed  with  the  shouts  of  the  people,  was  heard  in 
every  direction.  For  a  moment,  however,  these  shouts 
were  changed  into  laughter,  and  that  was  when  the  papal 
procession  approached,  headed  by  an  ass  led  by  the 
halter,  in  accordance  with  an  ancient  custom  of  Rome, 
While  the  Pope,  with  the  high  dignitaries  of  the  Church, 


KING  OR  EMPEROR.  113 

repaired  to  the  cathedral  to  await  there  the  coming  of 
the  imperial  couple,  Napoleon  was  putting  on  the  impe- 
rial insignia  in  the  Tuileries,  enveloping  himself  in  the 
green  velvet  mantle,  bordered  with  ermine,  and  thickly 
studded  with  brilliants,  and  arraying  himself  in  the 
whole  glittering  paraphernalia  of  his  new  dignity. 
When  already  on  the  point  of  leaving  the  Tuileries  with 
his  wife,  who  stood  at  his  side  in  her  imperial  attire, 
Bonaparte  suddenly  gave  the  order  that  the  notary  Kagi- 
deau  should  be  called  to  the  palace,  as  he  desired  to  see 
him  at  once. 

A  messenger  was  at  once  sent,  in  an  imperial  equi- 
page, to  bring  him  from  his  dwelling,  and  in  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  the  little  notary  Ragideau  entered  the  cabinet 
of  the  empress,  in  which  the  imperial  pair  were  alone, 
awaiting  him  in  their  glittering  attire. 

His  eyes  beaming,  a  triumphant  smile  on  his  lips, 
Napoleon  stepped  forward  to  meet  the  little  notary. 
"  Well,  Master  Ragideau,"  said  he,  gayly,  "  I  have  had 
you  called,  merely  to  ask  you  whether  General  Bonaparte 
really  possesses  nothing  besides  his  hat  and  his  sword,  or 
whether  you  will  now  forgive  Viscountess  Beauharnais 
for  having  married  me ; "  and,  as  Ragideau  looked  at 
him  in  astonishment,  and  Josephine  asked  the  meaning 
of  his  strange  words,  Bonaparte  related  how,  while 
standing  in  Ragideau's  antechamber  on  a  certain  occa- 
sion, he  had  heard  the  notary  advising  Josephine  not  to 
marry  poor  little  Bonaparte ;  not  to  become  the  wife  of  the 
general,  who  possessed  nothing  but  his  hat  and  his  sword« 


114:  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

The  notary's  words  had  entered  the  ambitious  young 
man's  heart  like  a  dagger,  and  had  wounded  him  deeply. 
But  he  had  uttered  no  complaint,  and  made  no  mention 
of  it ;  but  to-day,  on  the  day  of  his  supreme  triumph,  to- 
day the  emperor  remembered  that  moment  of  humilia- 
tion, and,  arrayed  with  the  full  insignia  of  the  highest 
earthly  dignity,  he  accorded  himself  the  triumph  of  re- 
minding the  Kttle  notary  that  he  had  once  advised  Jose- 
phine not  to  marry  him,  because  of  his  poverty. 

The  poor  General  Bonaparte  had  now  transformed 
himself  into  the  mighty  Emperor  I^apoleon.  Then  he 
possessed  nothing  but  his  hat  and  his  sword,  but  now  the 
Pope  awaited  him  in  the  cathedral  of  I^otre-Dame,  to 
place  the  golden  imperial  crown  on  his  head. 


CHAPTER  YI. 


HoBTENSE  had  not  been  able  to  take  any  part  in  the 
festivities  of  the  coronation  ;  but  another  festivity  had 
been  prepared  for  her  in  the  retirement  of  her  apart- 
ments. She  had  given  birth  to  a  son  ;  and  in  this  child 
the  happy  mother  found  consolation  and  a  new  hope. 

Josephine,  who  had  assumed  the  imperial  crown  with 
a  feeling  of  foreboding  sadness,  received  the  intelligence 
of  the  birth  of  her  grandson  with  exultation.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  the  clouds  that  had  been  gathering  over  her 


NAPOLEON'S  HEIR.  115 

head  were  now  dissipated,  and  that  a  day  of  unclouded 
sunshine  now  smiled  down  upon  her.  Hortense  had  as- 
sured her  mother's  future  ;  she  had  given  birth  to  a  son, 
and  had  thus  given  a  first  support  to  the  new  imperial 
dynasty.  There  was  now  no  longer  a  reason  why  Na- 
poleon should  entertain  the  thoughts  of  a  separation,  for 
there  was  a  son  to  whom  he  could  one  day  bequeath  the 
imperial  throne  of  France. 

The  emperor  also  seemed  to  be  disposed  to  favor  Jose- 
phine's wishes,  and  to  adopt  his  brother's  son  as  his  own. 
Had  he  not  requested  the  Pope  to  delay  his  departure 
for  a  few  days,  in  order  to  baptize  the  child  ?  The  Pope 
performed  this  sacred  rite  at  St.  Cloud,  the  emperor  hold- 
ing the  child,  and  Madame  Letitia  standing  at  his  side  as 
second  witness.  Hortense  now  possessed  an  object  upon 
which  she  could  lavish  the  whole  wealth  of  love  that  had 
until  now  lain  concealed  in  her  heart.  The  little  Napo- 
leon Charles  was  Hortense's  first  happy  love ;  and  she 
gave  way  to  this  intoxicating  feeling  with  the  most  in- 
tense delight. 

Josephine's  house  was  now  her  home  in  the  fullest 
sense  of  the  word  ;  she  no  longer  shared  her  home  with 
her  husband,  and  could  now  bestow  her  undivided  love 
dnd  care  upon  her  child.  Louis  Napoleon,  the  Grand- 
Constable  of  France,  had  been  appointed  Governor  of 
Piedmont  by  Napoleon ;  and  Hortense,  owing  to  her 
delicate  health,  had  not  been  compelled  to  accompany 
him,  but  had  been  permitted  to  remain  in  her  little 
house  in  Paris,  which  she  could  exchange  when  sum- 


116  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

mer  came  for  her  husband's  new  estate,  the  castle  of 
Saint-Leu. 

But  the  tranquillity  which  Josephine  enjoyed  with 
her  child  in  this  charming  country-resort  was  to  be  of 
short  duration.  The  brother  and  sister-in-law  of  the  em- 
peror could  not  hope  to  be  permitted  to  lead  a  life  of 
retirement.  They  were  rays  of  the  sun  that  now  dazzled 
the  whole  world  ;  they  must  fulfil  their  destiny,  and  con- 
tribute their  light  to  the  ruling  sun. 

An  order  of  Napoleon  recalled  the  constable,  who 
had  returned  from  Piedmont  a  short  time  before,  and 
repaired  to  Saint-Leu  to  see  his  son,  to  Paris.  Napoleon 
had  appointed  his  brother  to  a  brilliant  destiny ;  the  Con- 
stable of  France  was  to  become  a  king.  Delegates  of  the 
Republic  of  Batavia,  the  late  Holland,  had  arrived  in 
Paris,  and  requested  their  mighty  neighbor,  the  Em- 
peror Napoleon,  to  give  them  a  king,  who  should  unite 
them  with  the  glittering  empire,  through  the  ties  of 
blood.  Napoleon  intended  to  fulfil  their  wishes,  and 
present  them  with  a  king,  in  the  person  of  his  brother 
Louis. 

But  Louis  was  rather  appalled  than  dazzled  by  this 
offer,  and  refused  to  aecept  the  proposed  dignity.  In 
this  refusal  he  was  also  in  perfect  harmony  with  his 
wife,  who  did  all  in  her  power  to  strengthen  his  reso- 
lution. Both  felt  that  the  crown  which  it  was  proposed 
to  place  on  their  heads  would  be  nothing  more  than  a 
golden  chain  of  dependence ;  that  the  King  of  Holland 
could  be  nothing  more  than  the  vassal  of  France ;  and 


NAPOLEON'S  HEIR.  117 

their  personal  relations  to  each  other  added  another  ob- 
jection to  this  poUtical  consideration. 

In  Paris,  husband  and  wife  could  forget  the  chain 
that  bound  them  together  ;  there  they  were  in  the  circle 
of  their  friends,  and  could  avoid  each  other.  The  great, 
gHttering  imperial  court  served  to  separate  and  reconcile 
the  young  couple,  who  had  never  forgiven  themselves 
for  having  fettered  each  other  in  this  involuntary  union. 
In  Paris  they  had  amusements,  friends,  society  ;  while  in 
Holland  they  would  live  in  entire  dependence  on  each 
other,  and  hear  continually  the  rattling  of  the  chain  with 
which  each  had  bound  the  other  to  the  galley  of  a  union 
without  love. 

Both  felt  this,  and  both  were,  therefore,  united  in  the 
endeavor  to  ward  off  this  new  misfortune  that  was  sus- 
pended over  their  heads,  in  the  form  of  a  kingly  crown. 

But  how  could  they  resist  successfully  the  iron  will  of 
Napoleon  ?  Hortense  had  never  had  the  courage  to  ad- 
dress Napoleon  directly  on  the  subject  of  her  wishes  and 
petitions,  and  Josephine  already  felt  that  her  wishes  no 
longer  exercised  the  power  of  earlier  days  over  the  em- 
peror. She  therefore  avoided  interceding  where  she  was 
not  sure  of  being  successful. 

At  the  outset,  Louis  had  the  courage  to  resist  his 
brother  openly  ;  but  Napoleon's  angry  glance  annihilated 
his  opposition,  and  his  gentle,  yielding  nature  was  forced 
to  succumb.  In  the  presence  of  the  deputation  of  the 
Batavian  Republic,  that  so  ardently  longed  for  a  sceptre 
and  crown,  Napoleon  appealed  to  his  brother  Louis  to  ac- 


118  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

cept  the  crown  which  had  been  freely  tendered  him,  and 
to  be  to  his  country  a  king  who  would  respect  and  pro- 
tect its  liberties,  its  laws,  and  its  religion. 

With  emotion,  Louis  Bonaparte  declared  himselt 
ready  to  accept  this  crown,  and  to  be  a  good  and  true 
ruler  to  his  new  country. 

And  to  keep  this  oath  faithfully  was  from  this  time 
the  single  and  sacred  endeavor  to  which  he  devoted  his 
every  thought  and  energy.  The  people  of  Holland  hav- 
ing chosen  him  to  be  their  king,  he  was  determined  to  do 
honor  to  their  choice  ;  having  been  compelled  to  give  up 
his  own  country  and  nationahty,  he  determined  to  belong 
to  his  new  country  with  his  whole  heart  and  being — to 
become  a  thorough  Hollander,  as  he  could  no  longer  re- 
main a  Frenchman. 

This  heretofore  so  gentle  and  passive  nature  now  de- 
veloped an  entirely  new  energy ;  this  dreamer,  this  pale, 
silent  brother  of  the  emperor,  was  now  suddenly  trans- 
formed into  a  bold,  self-reliant  man  of  action,  who  had 
fixed  his  gaze  on  a  noble  aim,  and  was  ready  to  devote 
all  the  powers  of  his  being  to  its  attainment.  As  King 
of  Holland,  he  desired,  above  all,  to  be  beloved  by  his 
subjects,  and  to  be  able  to  contribute  to  their  welfare  and 
happiness.  He  studied  their  language  with  untiring  dili- 
gence, and  made  himself  acquainted  with  their  manners 
and  customs,  for  the  purpose  of  making  them  his  own. 
He  investigated  the  sources  of  their  wealth  and  of  their 
wants,  and  sought  to  develop  the  former  and  relieve  the 
latter.     He  was  restless  in  his  efforts  to  provide  for  his 


NAPOLEON'S  HEIR.  tl9 

country,  and  to  merit  the  love  and  confidence  which  his 
subjects  bestowed  on  him. 

His  wife  also  exerted  herself  to  do  justice  to  her  new 
and  glittering  position,  and  to  wear  worthily  the  crown 
which  she  had  so  unwillingly  accepted.  In  her  drawing- 
rooms  she  brought  together,  at  brilliant  entertainments, 
the  old  aristocracy  and  the  new  nobility  of  Holland,  and 
taught  the  stiff  society  of  that  country  the  fine,  uncon- 
strained tone,  and  the  vivacious  intellectual  conversation 
of  Parisian  society.  It  was  under  Hortense's  fostering 
hand  that  art  and  science  first  made  their  way  into  the 
aristocratic  parlors  of  Holland,  giving  to  their  social  re- 
unions a  higher  and  nobler  importance. 

And  Hortense  was  not  only  the  protectress  of  art  and 
science,  but  also  the  mother  of  the  poor,  the  ministering 
angel  of  the  unhappy,  whose  tears  she  dried,  and  whose 
misery  she  alleviated — and  this  royal  pair,  though  adored 
and  blessed  by  their  subjects,  could  not  find  within  their 
palaces  the  least  reflection  of  the  happiness  they  so 
well  knew  how  to  confer  upon  others  without  its  walls. 
Between  these  two  beings,  so  gentle  and  yielding  to 
others,  a  strange  antipathy  continued  to  exist,  and  not 
even  the  birth  of  a  second,  and  of  a  third,  son  could  fill 
up  the  chasm  that  separated  them. 

And  this  chasm  was  soon  to  be  broadened  by  a  new 
olow  of  destiny.  Hortense's  eldest,  the  adopted  son  of 
Napoleon,  the  presumptive  heir  to  his  throne,  the  child 
that  Napoleon  loved  so  dearly  that  he  often  played  with 
him  for  hours  on  the  terraces  of  St.  Cloud,  the  child  Jo- 


120  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

sephine  worshipped,  because  its  existence  seemed  to  as- 
sure her  own  happiness,  the  child  that  had  awsCkened  the 
first  feeling  of  motherly  bliss  in  Hortense's  bosom,  the 
child  that  had  often  even  consoled  Louis  Bonaparte  for 
the  unenjoyable  present  with  bright  hopes  for  the  future 
— the  little  ^N^apoleon  Charles  died  in  the  year  180Y,  of 
the  measles. 

This  was  a  terrific  blow  that  struck  the  parents,  and 
the  imperial  pair  of  France  with  equal  force.  Napole- 
on's eyes  filled  with  tears  when  this  intelligence  was 
brought  him,  and  a  cry  of  horror  escaped  Josephine's 
lips. 

"  Now  I  am  lost ! "  she  murmured  in  a  low  voice ; 
"  now  my  fate  is  decided.     He  will  put  me  away." 

But  after  this  first  egotistical  outburst  of  her  own 
pain,  she  hastened  to  the  Hague  to  weep  with  her 
daughter,  and  bring  her  away  from  the  place  associated 
with  her  loss  and  her  anguish.  Hortense  returned  with 
the  empress  to  St.  Cloud ;  while  her  husband,  who  had 
almost  succumbed  to  his  grief,  was  compelled  to  seek 
renewed  health  in  the  baths  of  the  Pyrenees.  The  royal 
palace  at  the  Hague  now  stood  desolate  again ;  death  had 
banished  life  and  joy  from  its  halls;  and,  though  the 
royal  pair  were  subsequently  compelled  H  returp  to  it, 
joy  and  happiness  came  back  -orith  them  no  more. 

King  Louis  had  re^^urned  from  the  Pyrenees  in  a 
more  gloomy  and  ill-natured  frame  of  mind  than  ever ; 
a  sickly  distrust,  a  repulsive  irritability,  had  taken  pos- 
sesfiion  of  his  whole  being,  and  his  young  wife  no  longer 


PREMONITIONS.  121 

had  the  good-will  to  bear  with  his  caprices,  and  excuse 
his  irritable  disposition.  They  were  totally  different  in 
their  views,  desires,  inclinations,  and  aspirations;  and 
their  children,  instead  of  being  a  means  of  reuniting, 
seemed  to  estrange  them  the  more,  for  each  insisted  on 
considering  them  his  or  her  exclusive  property,  and  in 
having  them  educated  according  to  his  or  her  views  and 
wishes. 

But  Hortense  was  soon  to  forget  her  own  household 
troubles  and  cares,  in  the  greater  misery  of  her  mother. 
A  letter  from  Josephine,  an  agonized  appeal  to  her 
daughter  for  consolation,  recalled  Hortense  to  her  moth- 
er's side,  and  she  left  the  Hague  and  hastened  to  Paris. 


CHAPTER  yn. 

PBEMONmONS. 

Josephine's  fears,  and  the  prophecies  of  the  French 
clairvoyante,  were  now  about  to  be  fulfilled.  The  crown 
which  Josephine  had  reluctantly  and  sorrowfully  ac- 
cepted, and  which  she  had  afterward  worn  with  so  much 
grace  and  amiability,  with  such  natural  majesty  and  dig- 
nity, was  about  to  fall  from  her  head.  Napoleon  had 
the  cruel  courage,  now  that  the  dreamed-of  future  had 
been  realized,  to  put  away  from  him  the  woman  who 
had  loved  him  and  chosen  him  when  he  had  nothing  to 
offer  her  but  his  hopes  for  the  future.     Josephine,  whc^ 


122  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

with  smiling  courage  and  brave  fidelity,  had  stood  at  his 
side  in  the  times  of  want  and  humiliation,  was  now  to 
be  banished  from  his  side  into  the  isolation  of  a  glitter- 
ing widowhood.  Kapoleon  had  the  courage  to  determine 
that  this  should  be  done,  but  he  lacked  the  courage  to 
break  it  to  Josephine,  and  to  pronounce  the  word  of 
separation  himself.  He  was  determined  to  sacrifice  to 
his  ambition  the  woman  he  had  so  long  called  his  "  good 
angel ; "  and  he,  who  had  never  trembled  in  battle,  trem- 
bled at  the  thought  of  her  tears,  and  avoided  meeting 
her  sad,  entreating  gaze. 

But  Josephine  divined  the  whole  terrible  misfortune 
that  hung  threateningly  over  her  head.  She  read  it  in 
the  gloomy,  averted  countenance  of  the  emperor,  who, 
since  his  recent  return  from  Vienna,  had  caused  the  door 
that  connected  his  room  with  that  of  his  wife  to  be 
locked;  she  read  it  in  the  faces  of  the  courtiers,  who 
dared  to  address  her  vrith  less  reverence,  but  with  a 
touch  of  compassionate  sympathy;  she  heard  it  in  the 
low  whispering  that  ceased  when  she  approached  a  group 
of  persons  in  her  parlors ;  it  was  betrayed  to  her  in  the 
covert,  mysterious  insinuations  of  the  public  press,  which 
attached  a  deep  and  comprehensive  significance  to  the 
emperor's  journey  to  Yienna. 

She  knew  that  her  destiny  must  now  be  fulfilled,  and 
that  she  was  too  weak  to  offer  any  resistance.  But  she 
was  determined  to  act  her  part  as  vdfe  and  empress 
worthily  to  the  end.  Her  tears  should  not  flow  out- 
wardly, but  inwardly  to  her  grief-stricken  heart ;  she 


PREMONITIONS.  123 

suppressed  her  sighs  with  a  smile,  and  concealed  the 
pallor  of  her  cheeks  with  rouge.  But  she  longed  for  a 
heart  to  whom  she  could  confide  her  anguish,  and  show 
her  tears,  and  therefore  called  her  daughter  to  her  side. 

How  painful  was  this  reunion  of  mother  and  daugh- 
ter, how  many  tears  were  shed,  how  bitter  were  the  lamen- 
tations Josephine  whispered  in  her  daughter's  ear  ! 

"  If  you  knew,"  said  she,  "  in  what  torments  I  have 
passed  the  last  few  weeks,  in  which  I  was  no  longer  his 
wife,  although  compelled  to  appear  before  the  world  as 
such !  What  glances,  Hortense,  what  glances  courtiers 
fasten  upon  a  discarded  woman !  In  what  uncertainty^ 
what  expectancy  more  cruel  than  death,  have  I  lived  and 
am  I  still  living,  awaiting  the  lightning  stroke  that  has 
long  glowed  in  Napoleon's  eyes !  "  * 

Hortense  listened  to  her  mother's  lamentations  with  a 
heart  full  of  bitterness.  She  thought  of  how  she  had 
been  compelled  to  sacrifice  her  own  happiness  to  that  of 
her  mother,  of  how  she  had  been  condemned  to  a  union 
without  love,  in  order  that  the  happiness  of  her  mother'a 
union  might  be  established  on  a  firm  basis.  And  now  all 
had  been  in  vain ;  the  sacrifice  had  not  suflSced  to  arrest 
the  tide  of  misfortune  now  about  to  bear  down  her  un- 
happy mother.  Hortense  could  do  nothing  to  avert  it. 
She  was  a  queen,  and  yet  only  a  weak,  pitiable  woman, 
who  envied  the  beggar  on  the  street  her  freedom  and  her 
humble  lot.  Both  mother  and  daughter  stood  on  the 
summit  of  earthly  magnificence,  and  yet  this  empress  and 

*  Jo8ephine*8  own  wordB.~BourrienQe,  toL  viii,  p.  248^ 


124  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

this  queen  felt  themselves  so  poor  and  miserable,  that 
they  looked  back  with  envy  at  the  days  of  the  revolution 
— the  days  in  which  they  had  led  in  retirement  a  life  of 
poverty  and  want.  Then,  though  struggling  with  want 
and  care,  they  had  been  rich  in  hopes,  in  wishes,  in  illu- 
sions ;  now,  they  possessed  all  that  could  adorn  life ;  now 
millions  of  men  bowed  down  to  them,  and  saluted  them 
with  the  proud  word  "majesty,"  and  yet  empress  and 
queen  were  now  poor  in  hopes  and  wishes,  poor  in  the 
illusions  that  lay  shattered  at  their  feet,  and  rejoicing 
only  in  the  one  happiness,  that  of  being  able  to  confide 
their  misery  to  each  other. 

A  few  days  after  her  arrival,  the  emperor  caused  Hor 
tense  to  be  called  to  his  cabinet.  He  advanced  toward 
her  with  vivacity,  but  before  the  gaze  of  her  large  eyes 
the  glance  of  the  man  before  whom  the  whole  world  now 
bowed,  almost  quailed. 

"  Hortense,"  said  he,  "  we  are  now  called  on  to  decide 
an  important  matter,  and  it  is  our  duty  not  to  recoil. 
The  nation  has  done  so  much  for  me  and  my  family, 
that  I  owe  them  the  sacrifice  which  they  demand  of  me. 
The  tranquillity  and  welfare  of  France  require  that  I 
shall  choose  a  wife  who  can  give  the  country  an  heir  to 
the  throne.  Josephine  has  been  living  in  suspense  and 
anguish  for  six  months,  and  this  must  end.  You,  Hor- 
tense,  are  her  dearest  friend  and  her  confidante  ;  she  loves 
you  more  than  all  else  in  the  world.  Will  you  undertake 
to  prepare  your  mother  for  this  step  ?  You  would  there- 
by relieve  my  heart  of  a  heavy  burden." 


THE  DIVORCE.  125 

Hortense  had  the  strength  to  suppress  her  tears,  and 
fasten  her  eyes  on  the  emperor's  countenance  in  a  firm, 
determined  gaze.  His  glance  again  quailed,  as  the  lion 
recoils  from  the  angry  glance  of  a  pure,  innocent  woman. 
Hortense  had  the  courage  to  positively  refuse  the  em- 
peror's request 

"  How,  Hortense ! "  exclaimed  Napoleon  with  emo- 
tion.    "  You  then  refuse  my  request  ?  " 

"  Sire,"  said  she,  hardly  able  longer  to  restrain  her 
tears,  "  sire,  I  have  not  the  strength  to  stab  my  mother 
to  £he  heart."  * 

And  regardless  of  etiquette,  Hortense  turned  away 
and  left  the  emperor's  cabinet,  the  tears  pouring  in 
streams  from  her  eyes. 


CHAPTER  YUL 

THE   DIVOBOE. 

Napoleon  made  one  other  attempt  to  impart  to  Jose- 
phine, through  a  third  person,  the  distressing  tidings  of 
hia  determination  with  regard  to  herself.  He  begged 
Eugene,  the  Viceroy  of  Italy,  to  come  to  Paris,  and  on 
his  arrival  informed  him  of  his  intentions  and  of  his 
wish.  Eugene,  like  his  sister,  received  this  intelligence 
in  silent  submissiveness,  but  like  his  sister,  he  refused  to 
impart  to  his  mother,  tidings  that  must  destroy  her  hap- 
piness forever. 

♦  Schelten,  vol.  ii„  p.  45. 


126  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

The  emperor  had  finally  to  make  up  his  mind  to  im- 
part the  distressing  tidings  in  person. 

It  was  on  the  30th  of  November,  1809.  The  em- 
peror and  empress  dined,  as  usual,  at  the  same  table. 
His  gloomy  aspect  on  entering  the  room  made  Jose- 
phine's heart  quake ;  she  read  in  his  countenance  that 
the  fatal  hour  had  come.  But  she  repressed  the  tears 
which  were  rushing  to  her  eyes,  and  looked  entreatingly 
at  her  daughter,  who  sat  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table, 
a  deathly  pallor  on  her  countenance. 

Not  a  word  was  spoken  during  this  gloomy,  ominous 
dinner.  The  sighs  and  half -suppressed  moaning  that  es- 
caped Josephine's  heaving  breast  were  quite  audible. 
Without,  the  wind  shrieked  and  howled  dismally,  and 
drove  the  rain  violently  against  the  window-panes  ;  with- 
in, an  ominous,  oppressive  silence  prevailed.  The  commo- 
tion of  Nature  contrasted,  and  yet,  at  the  same  time,  har- 
monized strangely  with  this  human  silence.  Napoleon 
broke  this  silence  but  once,  and  that  was  when,  in  a  harsh 
voice,  he  asked  the  lackey,  who  stood  behind  him,  what 
time  it  was.     Then  all  was  still  as  before. 

At  last  Napoleon  gave  the  signal  to  rise  from  the 
table,  and  coffee  was  then  taken  standing.  Napoleon 
drank  hastily,  and  then  set  the  cup  down  with  a  trem- 
bling hand,  making  it  ring  out  as  it  touched  the  table. 
With  an  angry  gesture  he  dismissed  the  attendants. 

"Sire,  may  Hortense  remain?"  asked  Josephine, 
almost  inaudibly. 

"No!"  exclaimed  the  emperor,  vehemently.      Hor- 


THE  DIVORCE.  127 

tense  made  a  profound  obeisance,  and,  taking  leave  of 
her  mother  with  a  look  of  tender  compassion,  left  the 
room,  followed  by  the  rest. 

The  imperial  pair  were  now  alone.  And  how  hor- 
rible was  this  being  left  alone  under  the  circumstances ; 
how  sad  the  silence  in  which  they  sat  opposite  each 
other  !  How  strange  the  glance  which  the  emperor  fast- 
ened on  his  wife ! 

She  read  in  his  excited,  quivering  features  the  strug- 
gle that  moved  his  soul,  but  she  also  read  in  them  that 
her  hour  was  come ! 

As  he  now  approached  her,  his  outstretched  hand 
trembled,  and  Josephine  shudderingly  recoiled. 

Napoleon  took  her  hand  in  his,  and  laid  it  on  his 
heart,  regarding  her  with  a  long  and  sorrowful  farewell- 
glance. 

"  Josephine,"  said  he,  his  voice  trembling  with  emo- 
tion, "  my  good  Josephine,  you  know  that  I  have  loved 
you  I  To  you,  and  to  you  alone,  do  I  owe  the  only  mo- 
ments of  happiness  I  have  enjoyed  in  this  world.  Jose- 
phine, my  destiny  is  stronger  than  my  will.  My  dearest 
desires  must  yield  to  the  interests  of  France."  * 

"  Speak  no  further,"  cried  Josephine,  withdrawing 
her  hand  angrily — "  no,  speak  no  further.  I  understand 
you,  and  I  expected  this,  but  the  blow  is  not  the  less 
deadly." 

She  could  speak  no  further,  her  voice  failed.  A  feel- 
ing of  despair  came  over  her ;  the  long-repressed  storm 

*  The  emperor's  own  words.    See  Bourrienne,  vol.  ilL,  p.  Mi, 


128  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

of  agony  at  last  broke  forth.  She  wept,  she  wrung  her 
hands;  groans  escaped  her  heaving  breast,  and  a  loud 
cry  of  anguish  burst  from  her  lips.  She  at  last  fainted 
away,  and  was  thus  relieved  from  a  consciousness  of  her 
sufferings. 

When  she  awoke  she  found  herself  on  her  bed,  and 
Hortense  and  her  physician  Corvisart  at  her  side.  Jose- 
phine stretched  out  her  trembling  arms  toward  her 
daughter,  who  threw  herself  on  her  mother's  heart,  sob' 
bing  bitterly.  Corvisart  silently  withdrew,  feeling  that 
he  could  be  of  no  further  assistance.  It  had  only  been 
in  his  power  to  recall  Josephine  to  a  consciousness  of  her 
misery ;  but  for  her  misery  itself  he  had  no  medicine ; 
he  knew  that  her  tears  and  her  daughter's  sympathy 
could  alone  give  relief. 

Josephine  lay  weeping  in  her  daughter's  arms,  when 
N'apoleon  came  in  to  inquire  after  her  condition.  As  he 
seated  himself  at  her  bedside,  she  shrank  back  with  a 
feeling  of  horror,  her  tears  ceased  to  flow,  and  her  usu- 
ally so  mild  and  joyous  eyes  now  shot  glances  of  anger 
and  offended  love  at  the  emperor.  But  love  soon  con- 
quered anger.  She  extended  her  tremulous  hand  to  Na- 
poleon ;  the  sad,  sweet  smile,  peculiar  to  woman,  trem- 
bled on  her  lips,  and,  in  a  gentle,  touching  voice,  she 
said  :  "  "Was  I  not  right,  my  friend,  when  I  shrank  back 
in  terror  from  the  thought  of  becoming  an  empress  ? "  * 

!N^apoleon   made   no   reply.      He   turned    away   and 

*  Josephine's  own  narrative.     See  Bourrienne,  vol.  iii.,  p.  342, 
et  seq. 


THE  DIVORCE.  129 

wept.  But  these  farewell  tears  of  his  love  could  not 
change  Josephine's  fate ;  the  emperor  had  already  deter- 
mined it  irrevocably.  His  demand  of  the  hand  of  the 
Archduchess  Marie  Louise  had  already  been  acceded  to 
in  Yienna.  Nothing  now  remained  to  be  done  but  to 
remove  Josephine  from  the  throne,  and  elevate  a  new,  a 
legitimate  empress,  to  the  vacant  place ! 

The  emperor  could  not  and  would  not  retrace  his 
steps.  He  assembled  about  him  all  his  brothers,  all  the 
kings,  dukes,  and  princes,  created  by  his  mighty  will, 
and  in  the  state-chambers  of  the  Tuileries,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  his  court  and  the  Senate,  the  emperor  appeared ; 
at  his  side  the  empress,  arrayed  for  the  last  time  in  all  the 
insignia  of  the  dignity  she  was  about  to  lay  aside  forever. 

In  a  loud,  firm  voice  the  emperor  declared  to  the  as- 
sembly his  determination  to  divorce  himself  from  his 
"wife ;  and  Josephine,  in  a  trembling  voice,  often  inter- 
rupted by  tears,  repeated  her  husband's  words.  The 
arch-chancellor,  Cambacer^s,  then  caused  the  appropriate 
paragraph  of  the  Code  Civile  to  be  read,  applied  it  to  the 
case  under  consideration,  in  a  short,  terse  address,  and 
pronounced  the  union  of  the  emperor  and  empress  dis- 
solved. 

This  ended  the  ceremony,  and  satisfied  the  require- 
ments of  the  law.  Josephine  had  now  only  to  take  leave 
of  her  husband  and  of  the  court,  and  she  did  this  with 
the  gentle,  angelic  composure,  in  the  graceful,  sweet 
manner,  which  was  hers  in  a  degree  possessed  by  few 
other  women. 


130  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

As  she  bowed  profoundly  to  Napoleon,  her  pale  face 
illumined  by  inward  emotion,  his  lips  murmured  a  few^ 
inaudible  words,  and  his  iron  countenance  quivered  for 
an  instant  with  pain.  As  she  then  walked  through  the 
chamber,  her  children,  Hortense  and  Eugene,  on  either 
side,  and  greeted  all  with  a  last  soft  look,  a  last  inclina- 
tion of  the  head,  nothing  could  be  heard  but  weeping, 
and  even  those  who  rejoiced  over  her  downfall,  because 
they  hoped  much  from  the  new  empress  and  the  new 
dynasty,  were  now  moved  to  tears  by  this  silent  and  yet 
BO  eloquent  leave-taking. 

The  sacrifice  was  accomplished.  Napoleon  had  sac- 
rificed his  dearest  possession  to  ambition;  he  had  di- 
vorced himself  from  Josephine. 

On  the  same  day  she  left  the  Tuileries  to  repair  to 
Malmaison,  her  future  home — to  Malmaison,  that  had 
once  been  the  paradise,  and  was  now  to  be  the  widow's 
seat,  of  her  love. 

Josephine  left  the  court,  but  the  hearts  of  those  who 
constituted  this  court  did  not  leave  her.  During  the 
next  few  weeks  the  crowds  of  the  coming  and  going  on 
the  road  from  Paris  to  Malmaison  presented  the  appear- 
ance of  a  procession  ;  the  equipages  of  all  the  kings  and 
princes  who  were  sojourning  in  Paris,  and  of  all  the 
nobles  and  dignitaries  of  the  new  France,  were  to  be 
seen  there.  Even  the  Faubourg  St.-Germain,  that  still 
preserved  its  sympathy  for  the  Bourbons,  repaired  to  the 
empress  at  Malmaison.  And  this  pilgrimage  was  made 
by  the  poor  and  humble,  as  well  as  by  the  rich  and  great. 


THE  KING  OF  HOLLAND.  131 

All  wished  to  say  to  the  empress  that  they  still  loved  and 
honored  her,  and  that  she  was  still  enthroned  in  their 
hearts,  although  her  rule  on  the  throne  was  at  an  end. 

The  whole  people  mourned  with  Josephine  and  her 
children.  It  was  whispered  about  that  Napoleon's  star 
would  now  grow  pale ;  that,  with  Josephine,  his  good 
angel  had  left  him,  and  that  the  future  would  avenge 
her  tears. 


OHAPTEE  IX. 

THE   KING   OF   HOLLAND. 

"While  Josephine  was  weeping  over  her  divorce  at 
Malmaison,  Hortense  was  seeking  one  for  herself.  A 
divorce  which  her  mother  lamented  as  a  misfortune,  be- 
cause she  still  loved  her  husband,  would  have  conferred 
happiness  upon  Hortense,  who  never  had  loved  her  hus- 
band. Once  again  in  harmony  with  her  husband,  Hor- 
tense entreated  the  emperor  to  permit  them  to  be  di- 
vorced, and  the  king  united  his  entreaties  with  those  of 
the  queen. 

But  Napoleon  was  unrelenting.  His  family  should 
not  appear  before  the  people  as  disregarding  the  sanctity 
of  the  marriage  bond.  For  state  reasons  he  had  separated 
from  his  wife,  and  for  state  reasons  he  could  not  give  hia 
consent  to  the  dissolution  of  the  union  of  his  brother  and 
«tep- daughter.     They  must,  therefore,  continue  to  drag 


132  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

the  chain  that  united  them ;  and  thej  did,  but  with  angry 
hearts. 

Louis  returned  to  Holland  in  a  more  depressed  state 
of  mind  than  ever ;  while  Hortense  and  her  two  children, 
in  obedience  to  Napoleon's  express  command,  remained 
in  Paris  for  some  time.  They  were  to  attend  the  festivi- 
ties that  were  soon  to  take  place  at  the  imperial  court  in 
honor  of  the  marriage  of  the  emperor  with  the  Arch- 
duchess Marie  Louise  of  Austria.  The  daughter  of  the 
divorced  empress,  with  the  emperor's  sisters,  had  been 
selected  to  carry  the  train  of  the  new  empress  on  the 
marriage-day.  Napoleon  wished  to  prove  to  France  and 
to  all  Europe  that  there  was  no  other  law  in  his  family 
than  his  will,  and  that  the  daughter  of  Josephine  had 
never  ceased  to  be  his  obedient  daughter  also.  Napoleon 
wished,  moreover,  to  retain  near  his  young  wife,  in  order 
that  she  might  have  at  her  side  a  gentle  and  tender  men- 
tor, the  queen  who  had  inherited  Josephine's  grace  and 
loveliness,  and  who,  in  her  noble  womanhood,  would  set 
a  good  example  to  the  ladies  of  his  court.  Hortense 
mutely  obeyed  the  emperor's  command ;  on  the  1st  of 
April,  1810,  the  day  of  the  union  of  Marie  Louise  with 
the  emperor,  she,  together  with  his  sisters,  bore  the  train 
of  the  new  empress.  She  alone  did  this  without  making 
any  resistance,  while  it  was  only  after  the  most  violent 
opposition  to  Napoleon's  command  that  his  sisters.  Queen 
Caroline  of  Naples,  the  Duchess  Pauline  of  Guastalla, 
and  the  Grand-duchess  Elise  of  Tuscany,  consented  to 
undergo  the  humiliation  of  walking  behind  their  new 


THE  KING  OP  HOLLAND.  133 

Bovereign  as  humble  subjects.  And  the  emperor's  sisters 
■were  not  the  only  persons  who  regarded  the  imperial  pair 
with  displeasure  on  the  day  of  the  marriage  celebration. 
Only  a  small  number  of  the  high  dignitaries  of  the 
Church  had  responded  to  the  invitation  of  the  grand- 
master of  ceremonies,  and  attended  the  marriage  celebra- 
tion in  the  chapel  in  the  Tuileries. 

The  emperor,  who  did  not  wish  to  punish  his  sisters 
for  their  opposition,  could  at  least  punish  the  absence  of 
the  cardinals,  and  he  did  this  on  the  following  day.  He 
exiled  those  cardinals  who  had  not  appeared  in  the  chapel, 
forbade  them  to  appear  in  their  red  robes  thenceforth, 
and  condemned  them  to  the  black  penitent's  dress. 

The  people  of  Paris  also  received  the  new  empress 
with  a  languid  enthusiasm.  They  regarded  the  new 
"  Austrian  "  with  gloomy  forebodings ;  and  when,  on  the 
occasion  of  the  ball  given  by  Prince  Schwartzenberg  in 
honor  of  the  imperial  marriage,  a  short  time  afterward, 
the  fearful  fire  occurred  that  cost  so  many  human  lives 
and  destroyed  so  much  family  happiness,  the  people  re- 
membered with  terror  that  other  misfortune  that  had  oc- 
curred on  the  day  of  the  entry  of  Marie  Antoinette  into 
Paris,  and  called  this  fire  an  earnest  of  the  misfortunes 
which  the  "  Austrian  "  would  bring  upon  France  and  the 
emperor. 

While  Hortense  was  compelled  to  attend  the  festivi- 
ties given  in  honor  of  the  new  empress  in  Paris,  a  dark 
storm-cloud  was  gathering  over  her  husband's  head,  that 
was  soon  to  threaten  his  life  and  his  crown. 


134  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

When  Louis,  at  the  emperor's  command,  accepted  the 
crown  of  Holland,  he  had  solemnly  sworn  to  be  a  faithful 
ruler  to  his  new  people,  and  to  devote  his  whole  being  to 
their  welfare.  He  was  too  honest  a  man  not  to  keep  this 
oath  sacredly.  His  sole  endeavor  was  to  make  such  ar- 
rangements, and  provide  such  laws,  as  the  welfare  and 
prosperity  of  Holland  seemed  to  require,  without  in  the 
least  considering  whether  these  laws  were  conducive  to 
the  interests  of  France  or  not.  He  would  not  regard 
Holland  as  a  province  dependent  upon  France,  of  which 
he  was  the  governor,  but  as  an  independent  land  that  had 
chosen  him  to  be  its  free  and  independent  king.  But 
Napoleon  did  not  view  the  matter  in  the  same  light ;  in 
his  eyes  it  was  sacrilege  for  the  kingdom  of  Holland  to 
refuse  to  conform  itself  in  every  respect  to  the  interests 
of  its  powerful  neighbor,  France. 

When  Napoleon  invested  his  brother  with  the  crown 
of  Holland,  he  had  charged  him  "  to  be  a  good  king  to 
his  people,  but  at  the  same  time  to  remain  a  good  French- 
man, and  protect  the  interests  of  France."  Louis  had, 
however,  endeavored  to  become  a  good  Hollander ;  and 
when  the  interests  of  France  and  Holland  came  into  con- 
flict, the  king  took  the  side  of  his  new  country,  and  acted 
as  a  Hollander.  He  was  of  the  opinion  that  the  welfare 
of  Holland  depended  on  its  commerce  and  industry  only, 
and  that  it  could  only  be  great  through  its  commercial 
importance ;  he  therefore  reduced  the  army  and  navy, 
making  merchantmen  of  the  men-of-war,  and  peaceful 
sailors  of  their  warlike  seamen. 


THE  KING  OP  HOLLAND.  135 

Napoleon,  however,  regarded  this  conversion  with  dis- 
may, and  angrily  reproached  the  King  of  Holland  for 
^*  disarming  whole  squadrons,  discharging  seamen,  and 
disorganizing  the  army,  until  Holland  was  without  pow- 
er, both  on  land  and  water,  as  though  warehouses  and 
clerks  were  the  material  elements  of  power."  iN^apoleon 
reproached  the  king  still  more  bitterly,  however,  for  hav- 
ing re-established  commercial  relations  with  England,  for 
having  raised  the  blockade  for  Holland  which  France  had 
established  against  England,  and  for  having  permitted 
the  American  ships,  that  had  been  banished  from  the 
ports  of  France,  to  anchor  quietly  in  those  of  Holland. 

The  emperor  demanded  of  the  King  of  Holland  that 
he  should  conform  himself  to  his  will  and  to  the  inter- 
ests of  France  unconditionally ;  that  he  should  imme- 
diately break  off  all  commercial  relations  between  Hol- 
land and  England  ;  that  he  should  re-establish  a  fleet,  of 
forty  ships-of-the-line,  seven  frigates,  and  seven  brigs, 
and  an  army  of  twenty-five  thousand  men,  and  that  he 
should  abolish  all  the  privileges  of  the  nobility  that  were 
contrary  to  the  constitution. 

King  Louis  had  the  courage  to  resist  these  demands, 
in  the  name  of  Holland,  and  to  refuse  to  obey  instruc- 
tions, the  execution  of  which  must  necessarily  have  af- 
fected  the  material  interests  of  Holland  most  injuriously. 

Napoleon  responded  to  this  refusal  with  a  declaration 
of  war.  The  ambassador  of  Holland  received  his  pass- 
port, and  a  Fi*ench  army  corps  was  sent  to  Holland,  to 
ponish  the  king^s  insolence. 


X36  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

But  the  misfortune  that  threatened  Holland  had 
called  the  king's  whole  energy  into  activity,  and  Napole- 
on's anger  and  threats  were  powerless  to  break  his  reso- 
lution. As  the  commander  of  the  French  troops,  the 
Duke  of  Reggio,  approached  Amsterdam,  to  lay  siege  to 
that  city  and  thereby  compel  the  king  to  yield,  Louis 
determined  rather  to  descend  from  his  throne  than  to 
submit  to  the  unjust  demands  of  France.  He,  therefore, 
issued  a  proclamation  to  his  people,  in  which  he  told 
them  that  he,  convinced  that  he  could  do  nothing  more 
to  promote  their  welfare,  and,  on  the  contrary,  believ- 
ing that  he  was  an  obstacle  in  the  way  of  the  restora- 
tion of  friendly  relations  between  his  brother  and  Hol- 
land, had  determined  to  abdicate  in  favor  of  his  two 
sons,  [N^apoleon  Louis  and  Charles  Louis  !N^apoleon. 
Until  they  should  attain  their  majority  the  queen,  in  con- 
formity with  the  constitution,  was  to  be  regent.  He 
then  took  leave  of  his  subjects,  in  a  short  and  touching 
address.  He  now  repaired,  in  disguise,  and  under  the 
name  of  Count  de  St.  Leu,  through  the  states  of  his 
brother  Jerome,  King  of  Westphalia,  and  through  Sax- 
ony to  Toplitz. 

Here  he  learned  that  INTapoleon,  far  from  respecting 
and  fulfilling  the  conditions  of  his  abdication,  had  united 
the  kingdom  of  Holland  with  the  empire.  The  king 
published  a  protest  against  this  action  of  the  emperor,  in 
which,  in  the  name  of  his  son  and  heir,  IN^apoleon  Louis, 
he  denounced  this  act  of  the  emperor  as  a  totally  unjusti- 
fiable act  of  violence,  and  demanded  that  the  kingdom  of 


THE  KING  OP  HOLLAND.  I37 

Holland  should  be  re-established,  in  all  its  integrity,  de- 
claring the  annexation  of  Holland  to  France  to  be  null 
and  void,  in  the  name  of  himself  and  his  sons. 

Napoleon  responded  to  this  protest  by  causing  the 
king  to  be  informed  by  the  French  ambassador  in  Vi- 
enna that  unless  he  returned  to  France  by  the  Ist  of 
December,  1810,  he  should  be  regarded  and  treated  as  a 
rebel,  who  dared  to  resist  the  head  of  his  family  and 
violate  the  constitution  of  the  empire. 

Louis  neither  answered  nor  conformed  to  this  threat. 
He  repaired  to  Gratz,  in  Styria,  and  lived  there  as  a  pri- 
vate gentleman,  beloved  and  admired,  not  only  by  those 
who  came  in  contact  with  him  there,  but  enjoying  the 
esteem  of  all  Europe,  which  he  had  won  by  the  noble 
and  truly  magnanimous  manner  in  which  he  had  sacri- 
ficed his  own  grandeur  to  the  welfare  of  his  people. 
Even  his  and  Napoleon's  enemies  could  not  withhold 
from  the  King  of  Holland  the  tribute  of  their  respect, 
and  even  Louis  XYIIL  said  of  him  :  "  By  his  abdication, 
Louis  Bonaparte  has  become  a  true  king ;  in  renouncing 
his  crown,  he  has  shown  himself  worthy  to  wear  it.  He 
is  the  first  monarch  who  has  made  so  great  a  sacrifice 
out  of  pure  love  for  his  people ;  others  have  also  relin- 
quished their  thrones,  but  they  did  it  when  weary  of 
power.  But  in  this  action  of  the  King  of  Holland  there 
is  something  tnily  sublime — something  that  was  not 
duly  appreciated  at  first,  but  which  will  be  admired  hj 
posterity,  if  I  mistake  not,  greatly.''  * 

•  Mdmoires  d'une  Femme  de  Quality,  voL  y.,  p.  47. 
10 


138  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

In  Gratz,  Louis  Bonaparte,  Count  de  St.  Leu,  lived  a 
few  peaceful,  tranquil  years,  perhaps  the  first  years  of 
happiness  he  had  enjoyed  in  his  short  and  hitherto 
stormy  life.  Occupied  with  work  and  study,  he  easily 
forgot  his  former  grandeur  and  importance.  As  it  had 
once  been  his  ambition  to  become  a  good  king,  it  was 
now  his  ambition  to  become  a  good  writer.  He  pub- 
lished his  romance  Marie,  and,  encouraged  by  the  success 
which  it  met  with  in  his  circle  of  friends,  he  also  gave 
his  poems  to  the  public — poems  whose  tender  and  pas- 
sionate language  proved  that  this  so  often  misunderstood, 
so  often  repulsed,  and,  therefore,  so  timid  and  distrustful 
heart,  could  warm  with  a  tenderness  of  love  that  Marie 
Pascal,  the  beautiful  artist  of  the  harp,  could  hardly  have 
had  the  cruelty  to  withstand. 

But  a  day  came  when  Louis  Bonaparte  closed  his  ear 
to  all  these  sweet  voices  of  happiness,  of  peace,  and  of 
love,  to  listen  only  to  the  voice  of  duty,  that  appealed  to 
him  to  return  to  France,  to  his  brother's  side.  While 
the  sun  of  fortune  shone  over  ^Napoleon,  the  king,  who 
had  voluntarily  descended  from  a  throne,  remained  in 
obscurity ;  but  when  the  days  of  misfortune  came  upon 
the  emperor,  there  could  be  but  one  place  for  his  brave 
and  faithful  brother,  and  that  was  at  Napoleon's  side. 

Madame  de  St.  Elme,  who  was  at  Gratz  at  this  time,, 
and  who  witnessed  the  farewell  scene  between  Louis  Bo- 
naparte and  the  inhabitants  of  Gratz,  says  :  "  On  the  day 
when  Austria  so  unexpectedly  sundered  its  alliance  with 
France,  King  Louis  felt  the  necessity  of  abandoning  an 


THE  KING  OP  HOLLAND.  ;139 

asylum,  for  which  he  would  henceforth  have  been  in- 
debted to  the  enemies  of  France,  and  hastened  to  claim 
of  the  great  unjust  man  who  had  repulsed  him,  the  only 
place  commensurate  with  the  dignity  of  his  character,  the 
place  at  his  side. 

"  This  was  a  subject  of  profound  sorrow  and  regret 
for  the  inhabitants  of  Gratz,  and  of  all  Styria,  for  there 
was  not  a  pious  or  useful  institution,  or  a  poor  family  in 
Styria,  that  had  not  been  the  object  of  his  beneficence, 
and  yet  it  was  well  known  that  the  king  who  had  de- 
scended from  his  throne  so  hastily,  and  with  so  Httle 
preparation,  had  but  small  means,  and  denied  himself 
many  of  the  enjoyments  of  life,  in  order  that  he  might 
lend  a  helping  hand  to  others.  He  was  entreated,  con- 
jured with  tears,  to  remain,  but  he  held  firm  to  his  reso- 
lution. And  when  the  horses,  that  they  had  at  first  de- 
termined to  withhold  from  him,  were  at  last,  at  his  ear- 
nest and  repeated  solicitation,  provided,  the  people  unhar- 
nessed these  horses  from  his  carriage,  in  order  that  they 
might  take  their  places,  and  accompany  him  to  the  gates 
of  the  city  with  this  demonstration  of  their  love.  This 
departure  had  the  appearance  of  a  triumphal  procession ; 
and  this  banished  king,  without  a  country,  was  greeted 
with  as  lively  plaudits  on  leaving  his  place  of  exile  as 
when  he  mounted  his  throne."  * 

*  M^moires  d'une  contemporaine,  toL  iv.,  p.  877. 


140  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

CHAPTER  X. 

JUNOT,   THE   DUKE   d'aBRANTES. 

While  the  faithful  were  rallying  around  I^apoleon 
to  render  assistance  to  the  hero  in  his  hour  of  peril — 
while  even  his  brother  Louis,  forgetting  the  mortifica- 
tions and  injuries  he  had  sustained  at  the  emperor's 
hands,  hastened  to  his  side,  there  was  one  of  the  most 
devoted  kept  away  from  him  by  fate — one  upon  whom 
the  emperor  could  otherwise  have  depended  in  life  and 
death. 

This  one  was  his  friend  and  comrade-in-arms,  Junot, 
who,  descended  from  an  humble  family,  had  by  his  merit 
and  heroism  elevated  himself  to  the  rank  of  a  Duke 
d'Abrantes.  He  alone  failed  to  respond  when  the  omi- 
nous roll  of  the  war-drum  recalled  all  ^N'apoleon's  gener- 
als to  Paris.  But  it  was  not  his  will,  but  fate,  that  kept 
him  away. 

Junot — the  hero  of  so  many  battles,  the  chevalier 
without  fear  and  without  reproach,  the  former  governor 
of  Madrid,  the  present  governor  of  Istria  and  Illyria — 
Junot  was  suffering  from  a  visitation  of  the  most  fearful 
of  all  diseases — his  brain  was  affected!  The  scars  that 
covered  his  head  and  forehead,  and  testified  so  eloquently 
to  his  gallantry,  announced  at  the  same  time  the  source 
of  his  disease.  His  head,  furrowed  by  sabre-strokes,  was 
outwardly  healed,  but  the  wounds  had  affected  his  brain. 

The  hero  of  so  many  battles  was  transported  into  a 


JUNOT,  THE  DUKE  D'ABRANTES.  141 

madman.  And  yet,  this  madman  was  still  the  all-powerful, 
despotic  ruler  of  Istria  and  lUyria.  Napoleon,  in  appoint- 
ing him  governor  of  these  provinces,  had  invested  him 
with  truly  royal  authority.  Knowing  the  noble  disposi- 
tion, fidelity,  and  devotion  of  his  brother-in-arms,  he  had 
conferred  upon  liim  sovereign  power  to  rule  in  his  stead. 
There  was,  therefore,  no  one  who  could  take  the  sceptre 
from  his  hand,  and  depose  him  from  his  high  position. 
Napoleon  had  placed  this  sceptre  in  his  hand,  and  he 
alone  could  demand  it  of  him.  Even  the  Viceroy  of 
Italy — to  whom  the  Chambers  of  Istria  appealed  for 
help  in  their  anxiety— even  Eugene,  could  afford  them 
no  relief.  He  could  only  say  to  them  :  "  Send  a  courier 
to  the  emperor,  and  await  his  reply." 

But  at  that  time  it  was  not  so  easy  a  matter  to  send 
couriers  a  distance  of  a  thousand  miles  ;  then  there  were 
no  railroads,  no  telegraphs.  The  Illyrians '  immediately 
sent  a  courier  to  the  emperor,  with  an  entreaty  for  their 
relief,  but  the  Kussian  proverb,  "  Heaven  is  high,  and 
the  emperor  distant,"  applied  to  them  also!  Weeks 
must  elapse  before  the  courier  could  return  with  the  em- 
peror's reply ;  until  then,  there  was  no  relief ;  and  until 
then,  there  was  no  authority  to  obey  but  the  Duke 
d'Abrantes,  the  poor  madman  I 

No  other  authority,  no  institution,  had  the  right  to 
place  itself  in  his  stead,  or  to  assume  his  prerogatives 
for  an  instant  even,  without  violating  the  seal  of  sover- 
eignty tliat  Napoleon  had  impressed  on  the  brow  of  his 
governor ! 


142  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

^N^apoleon,  whose  crown  was  already  trembling  on  his 
head,  who  was  already  so  near  his  own  fall,  still  possessed 
such  gigantic  power  that  its  reflection  suflficed  to  protect, 
at  a  distance  of  a  thousand  miles  from  the  boundaries  of 
France,  the  inviolability  of  a  man  who  had  lost  his  rea- 
son, and  no  longer  had  the  power  of  reflection  and  vo- 
lition. 

How  handsome,  how  amiable,  how  chivalrous,  had 
Junot  been  in  his  earlier  days !  How  well  he  had  known 
how  to  charm  beautiful  women  in  the  drawing-rooms, 
soldiers  on  the  battle-field,  and  knights  at  the  tourney  I 
In  all  knightly  accomplishments  he  was  the  master — 
always  and  everywhere  the  undisputed  victor  and  hero. 
These  accomplishments  had  won  the  heart  of  Made- 
moiselle de  Premont.  The  daughter  of  the  proud  bar- 
oness of  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  had  joyfully  deter- 
mined, in  spite  of  her  mother's  dismay,  to  become  the 
wife  of  the  soldier  of  the  republic,  of  Napoleon's  com- 
rade-in-arms. Although  Junot  had  no  possession  but  his 
pay,  and  no  nobility  but  his  sword  and  his  renown,  this 
nevertheless  sufficed  to  win  him  the  favor  of  the  daugh- 
ter of  this  aristocratic  mother — of  the  daughter  who  was 
yet  so  proud  of  being  the .  last  descendant  of  the  Com- 
neni.  l^apoleon,  who. loved  to  see  matrimonial  alliances 
consummated  between  his  generals  and  his  nobility  and 
the  old  legitimist  nobility  of  France,  rewarded  the 
daughter  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  richly  for  the 
sacrifice  she  had  made  for  his  comrade-in-arms,  in  giv- 
ing up  her  illustrious  name,  and  her  coat-of-arms,  to  he- 


JTJNOT,  THE  DUKE  D'ABRANTES.  I43 

come  the  wife  of  a  general  without  ancestors  and  with- 
out fortune.  He  made  his  friend  a  duke,  and  the  Duch- 
ess d'Abrantes  had  no  longer  cause  to  be  ashamed  of  her 
title ;  the  descendant  of  the  Comneni  could  content  her- 
self with  the  homage  done  her  as  the  wife  of  the  gov- 
ernor of  Lisbon,  contented  with  the  laurels  that  adorned 
her  husband's  brow — laurels  to  which  he  added  a  new 
branch,  but  also  new  wounds,  on  every  battle-field. 

The  consequences  of  these  wounds  had  veiled  the 
hero's  laurels  with  mourning-crape,  and  destroyed  the 
domestic  happiness  of  the  poor  duchess  forever.  She 
had  first  discovered  her  husband's  sad  condition,  but  she 
had  known  how  to  keep  it  a  secret  from  the  rest  of  the 
world.  She  had,  however,  refused  to  accompany  the 
duke  to  Ulyria,  and  had  remained  in  Paris,  still  hoping 
that  the  change  of  climate  and  associations  might  restore 
him  to  health. 

But  her  hopes  were  not  to  be  realized.  The  attacks 
of  madness,  that  had  hitherto  occurred  at  long  intervals 
only,  now  became  more  frequent,  and  were  soon  no 
longer  a  secret.  All  Illyria  knew  that  its  governor  was 
a  madman,  and  yet  no  one  dared  to  oppose  his  will,  or  to 
refuse  to  obey  his  conmiands ;  all  still  bowed  to  his  will, 
in  humility  and  silent  submissiveness,  hopefully  awaiting 
the  return  of  the  courier  who  I' ad  been  dispatched  to 
i^apoleon  at  Paris. 

"But  heaven  is  high,  and  the  emperor  distant  I" 
And  much  evil  could  happen,  and  did  happen,  before 
the  courier  returned  to  Trieste,  where  Junot  resided 


t44:  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

The  poor  duke's  condition  grew  worse  daily ;  his  attacks 
of  madness  became  more  frequent  and  more  dangerous, 
und  broke  out  on  the  slightest  provocation. 

On  one  occasion  a  nightingale,  singing  in  the  bushes 
beneath  his  window,  had  disturbed  his  rest ;  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning  he  caused  the  general  alarm  to  be 
-sounded,  and  two  battalions  of  Croats  to  be  drawn  up  in 
the  park,  to  begin  a  campaign  against  the  poor  nightin- 
gale, who  had  dared  to  disturb  his  repose. 

On  another  occasion,  Junot  fancied  he  had  discov- 
ered a  grand  conspiracy  of  all  the  sheep  of  Ulyria; 
Against  this  conspiracy  he  brought  the  vigilance  of  the 
police,  all  the  means  of  the  administration,  and  the  whole 
severity  of  the  law,  into  requisition  for  its  suppression. 

At  another  time,  he  suddenly  became  desperately 
enamoured  of  a  beautiful  Greek  girl,  who  belonged  to 
his  household.  Upon  her  refusal  to  meet  his  advances 
favorably,  a  passionate  desperation  took  possession  of  Ju- 
not, and  he  determined  to  set  fire  to  his  palace,  and  per- 
ish with  his  love  in  the  flames.  Fortunately,  his  pur- 
pose was  discovered,  and  the  fire  he  had  kindled  stifled 
at  once. 

He  would  suddenly  be  overcome  with  a  passionate 
distaste  for  the  grandeur  and  splendor  that  surrounded 
him,  and  long  to  lay  aside  his  brilliant  position,  and  fly 
to  the  retirement  of  an  humble  and  obscure  life. 

It  was  his  dearest  wish  to  become  a  peasant,  and  be 
able  to  live  in  a  hut ;  and,  as  there  was  no  one  who  had 
the  right  to  divest  him  of  his  high  dignities  and  grant 


JUNOT,  THE  DUKE  D'ABRANTE.S  I45. 

his  desire,  he  formed  the  resolution  to  divest  himself  of 
this  oppressive  grandeur,  by  the  exercise  of  his  own  ful- 
ness of  power,  and  to  withdraw  himself  from  the  annoy- 
ances imposed  upon  him  by  his  high  position. 

Under  the  pretence  of  visiting  the  provinces,  he  left 
Trieste,  to  lead  for  a  few  weeks  an  entirely  new  Ufe — & 
life  that  seemed,  for  a  brief  period,  to  soothe  his  excited, 
mind.  He  arrived,  almost  incognito,  in  the  little  city  of 
Gorizia,  and  demanded  to  be  conducted  to  the  most  un- 
pretending establishment  to  which  humble  and  honest 
laborers  were  in  the  habit  of  resorting  for  refreshment 
and  relaxation.  He  was  directed  to  an  establishment 
called  the  Ice-house,  a  place  to  which  poor  daily  laborers 
resorted,  to  repose  after  the  labors  of  the  day,  and  re- 
fresh themselves  with  a  glass  of  beer  or  wine. 

In  this  Ice-house  the  governor  of  Dlyria  now  took 
up  his  abode.  He  seldom  quitted  it,  either  by  day  or 
night ;  and  here,  like  Haroun-al-Raschid,  he  took  part  ia 
the  harmless  merriment  of  happy  and  contented  poverty. 
And  here  this  poor  man  was  to  find  a  last  delight,  a  last 
consolation  ;  here  he  was  to  find  a  last  friend. 

This  last  friend  of  the  Duke  d'Abrantes — this  Py- 
lades  of  the  poor  Orestes — was — a  madman! — a  poor 
simpleton,  of  good  family,  who  was  so  good-humored  and 
harmless  that  he  was  allowed  to  go  at  large,  and  free 
scope  given  to  his  innocent  freaks.  He,  however,  pos- 
sessed a  kind  of  droll,  pointed  wit,  which  he  sometimes 
brought  to  bear  most  effectively,  sparing  neither  rank 
nor  position.     The  half-biting,  half-droll  remarks  of  thiff 


146  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

Diogenes  of  Istria  was  all  that  now  afforded  enjoyment 
to  the  broken-down  old  hero.  It  was  with  intense  de- 
light that  he  heard  the  social  grandeur  and  distinctions 
that  had  cost  him  so  dear  made  ridiculous  by  this  half- 
witted fellow,  whose  peculiar  forte  it  was  to  jeer  at  the 
pomp  that  surrounded  the  governor,  and  imitate  French 
elegance  in  a  highly-burlesque  manner ;  and  when  he  did 
this,  his  poor  princely  friend's  delight  knew  no  bounds. 

On  one  occasion,  after  the  poor  fellow  had  been  en- 
tertaining  him  in  this  manner,  the  Duke  d' Abrantes  threw 
himself,  in  his  enthusiasm,  in  his  friend's  arms,  and  in- 
vested him  with  the  insignia  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  by 
hanging  around  his  neck  the  grand-cross  of  this  order 
hitherto  worn  by  himself.  The  emperor  had  given  Ju- 
not  authority  to  distribute  this  order  to  the  deserving 
throughout  the  provinces  of  lUyria  and  Istria,  and  the 
governor  himself  having  invested  this  mad  Diogenes 
with  the  decoration,  there  was  no  one  who  was  compe- 
tent to  deprive  him  of  it.  For  weeks  this  mad  fool  waa 
to  be  seen  in  the  streets  of  Gorizia,  parading  himself  like 
a  peacock,  with  the  grand-cross  of  the  honorable  order  of 
the  Emperor  ]!^apoleon,  and,  at  the  same  time,  uttering 
the  most  pointed  and  biting  hon  mots  at  the  expense  of 
his  own  decoration.  The  duke  often  accompanied  him 
in  his  wanderings  through  the  town,  sometimes  laughing 
loudly  at  the  fool's  jests,  sometimes  listening  with  earnest 
attention,  as  though  his  utterances  were  oracles.  Thus 
this  strange  couple  passed  the  time,  either  lounging 
through  the  streets  together,  or  seated  side  by  side  on  a 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AS  A  VENDER  OF  VIOLETS.  I4.7 

stone  by  the  way,  engaged  in  curious  reflections  on  tlie 
passers-bj,  or  philosophizing  over  the  emptiness  of  all 
glory  and  grandeur,  and  over  the  littleness  and  malice  of 
the  world,  reahzing  the  heart-rending,  impressive  scenes 
between  Lear  and  his  fool,  which  Shakespeare's  genius 
has  depicted. 

After  weeks  of  anxious  suspense,  the  imperial  mes- 
sage, relieving  Junot  of  his  authority,  and  placing  the 
Duke  of  Otranto  in  his  place,  at  last  arrived.  The  poor 
Duke  d'Abrantes  left  Ulyria,  and  returned  to  France, 
where,  in  the  little  town  of  Maitbart,  after  long  and 
painful  struggles,  he  ended,  in  sadness  and  solitude,  a  life 
of  renown,  heroism,  and  irreproachable  integrity. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

LOUIS   NAPOLEON   AS   A  VENDER  OF  VIOLETS. 

Gbadually,  the  brilliancy  of  the  sun  that  had  so 
long  dazzled  the  eyes  of  all  Europe  began  to  wax  pale, 
and  the  luminous  star  of  Napoleon  to  grow  dim  among 
the  dark  clouds  that  were  gathering  around  him.  For- 
tune had  accorded  him  all  that  it  could  bestow  upon  a 
mortal.  It  had  laid  all  the  crowns  of  Europe  at  his  feet, 
and  made  him  master  of  all  the  monarchies  and  peoples. 
Napoleon's  antechamber  in  Erfurt  and  in  Dresden  had 
been  the  rendezvous  of  the  emperors,  kings,  and  princes 
of  Europe,  and  England  alone  had  never  disguised  its 


148  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

hostility  beneath  the  mask  of  friendship,  and  bent  the 
knee  to  a  hated  and  feared  neighbor.  N^apoleon,  the 
master  of  Europe,  whom  emperors  and  kings  gladly 
called  "  brother,"  could  now  proudly  remember  his  past ; 
he  had  now  risen  so  high  that  he  no  longer  had  cause 
to  deny  his  humble  origin ;  this  very  lowliness  had  now 
become  a  new  triumph  of  his  grandeur. 

On  one  occasion,  during  the  congress  at  Erfurt,  all 
the  emperors,  kings,  and  princes,  were  assembled  around 
^Napoleon's  table.  He  occupied  the  seat  between  his  en- 
thusiastic friend  the  Emperor  of  Kussia,  and  his  father- 
in-law,  the  Emperor  of  Austria.  Opposite  them  sat  the 
Eang  of  Prussia,  his  ally,  although  ]^apoleon  had  de- 
prived him  of  the  Rhine  provinces  ;  and  the  Kings  of 
Bavaria  and  Wiirtemberg,  to  whom  ISTapoleon  had  given 
crowns,  whose  electorate  and  duchy  he  had  converted 
into  kingdoms,  and  of  whom  the  first  had  given  his 
daughter  in  marriage  to  Napoleon's  adopted  son,  Eugene, 
and  the  second  his  daughter  to  Napoleon's  brother  Je- 
rome. There  were,  further,  at  the  table,  the  King  of 
Saxony  and  the  Grand-duke  of  Baden,  to  the  latter  of 
whom  Napoleon  had  given  the  hand  of  Josephine's 
niece,  Stephanie  de  Beauharnais.  All  these  were  princes, 
"  by  the  grace  of  God,"  of  brilliant  and  haughty  dynas- 
ties; and  in  their  midst  sat  the  son  of  the  advocate  of 
Corsica — he,  the  Emperor  of  France — he,  upon  whom  the 
gaze  of  all  these  emperors  and  kings  was  fastened  in  ad- 
miration  and  respect.  Napoleon's  extraordinary  memory 
had  just  been  the  topic  of  conversation,  and  the  emperor 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AS  A  VENDER  OP  VIOLETS.  I4.9 

was  about  to  explain  how  he  had  brought  it  to  such  a 
state  of  perfection. 

"  While  I  was  still  a  sub-lieutenant,"  began  Kapoleon, 
and  instantly  his  hearers  let  fall  their  gaze,  and  looked 
down  in  shame  at  their  plates,  while  a  cloud  of  displeas- 
ure passed  over  the  brow  of  the  emperor  of  Austria  at 
this  mention  of  the  low  origin  of  his  son-in-law.  Napo- 
leon observed  this,  and  for  an  instant  his  eagle  glance 
rested  on  the  embarrassed  countenances  that  surrounded 
him ;  he  then  paused  for  a  moment.  He  began  again, 
speaking  with  sharp  emphasis:  "When  I  still  had  the 
honor  of  being  a  sub-lieutenant,"  said  he,  and  the  Em- 
peror Alexander  of  Kussia,  the  only  one  of  the  princes 
who  had  remained  unembarrassed,  laid  his  hand  on  the 
emperor's  shoulder,  smiled  approvingly,  and  listened  with 
interest  and  pleasure  to  the  emperor's  narrative  of  the 
time  when  he  "still  had  the  honor  of  being  a  sub-lieu- 
tenant." ♦ 

Napoleon,  as  we  have  said,  had  already  mounted  so 
high  that  for  him  there  was  no  longer  a  summit  to  be 
attained,  and  now  his  heart's  last  and  dearest  wish  had 
been  granted  by  destiny.  His  wife,  Marie  Louise,  had 
given  birth  to  a  son  on  the  20th  of  May,  1811,  and  the 
advent  of  the  little  King  of  Eome  had  fulfilled  the 
warmest  desires  of  Napoleon  and  of  France.  The  em- 
peror now  had  an  heir ;  Napoleon's  dynasty  was  assured. 

Festivities  were  therefore  held  in  honor  of  this  event, 
in  the  Tuileries,  at  the  courts  of  the  Queen  of  Naples,  of 
*  Bossuet,  M^moires,  toL  t. 


150  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

the  Grand-duchess  de  Guastalla,  of  all  the  dukes  of  the 
empire,  and  of  the  Queen  of  Holland. 

Hortense  was  ill  and  in  pain ;  a  nervous  headache, 
that  she  had  been  suffering  from  for  some  time,  betrayed 
the  secret  of  the  pain  and  grief  she  had  so  long  con- 
cealed from  observation.  Her  cheeks  had  grown  pale, 
:and  her  eyes  had  lost  their  lustre.  Her  mother  wept 
over  her  lost  happiness  in  Malmaison,  and,  when  Hor- 
tense had  wept  with  and  consoled  her  mother,  she  was 
compelled  to  dry  her  eyes  and  hasten  to  the  Tuileries, 
and  appear,  with  a  smiling  countenance,  before  her  who 
was  now  her  empress  and  her  mother's  happy  rival. 

But  Hortense  had  accepted  her  destiny,  and  was  de- 
termined to  demean  herself  as  became  her  own  and  her 
mother's  dignity.  She  endeavored  to  be  a  true  and  sin- 
cere friend  to  the  young  empress,  and  fulfil  the  em- 
peror's wishes,  and  to  give  brilliant  entertainments  in 
honor  of  the  King  of  Rome,  in  spite  of  the  pain  it  must 
cost  her.  "  The  emperor  wills  it,  the  emperor  requires 
it ; "  that  was  sufficient  for  all  who  were  about  him,  and 
it  was  sufficient  for  her.  Her  mother  had  gone  because 
it  was  his  will,  she  had  remained  because  it  was  his  will, 
and  she  now  gave  these  entertainments  for  the  same 
reason.  But  there  was  an  element  of  sadness  and  gloom 
even  in  these  festivities  of  the  carnival  of  1813 ;  the 
presence  of  so  many  cripples  and  invalids  recalled  the 
memory  of  the  reverses  of  the  past  year.  At  the  balls 
there  was  a  great  scarcity  of  young  men  who  could 
dance ;  incessant  wars  had  made  the  youth  of  France  old 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AS  A  VENDER  OP  VIOLETS.  151 

before  their  time,  and  had  converted  vigorous  men  into 
cripples. 

Her  heart  filled  with  dark  forebodings,  Hortense  si- 
lently prepared  herself  against  the  days  of  misfortune 
which  she  knew  must  inevitably  come.  When  these 
days  should  come,  she  wished  to  be  ready  to  meet  them 
with  a  brave  heart  and  a  resolute  soul,  and  she  also  en- 
deavored to  impress  on  the  minds  of  her  two  beloved 
sons  the  inconstancy  of  fortune,  in  order  that  they  might 
look  misfortune  boldly  in  the  face.  She  had  no  compas- 
sion with  the  tender  youth  of  these  boys,  who  were  now 
eight  and  six  years  old;  no  compassion,  because  she 
loved  them  too  well  not  to  strive  to  prepare  them  for 
adversity. 

One  day  the  Duchess  of  Bassano  gave  a  ball  in  honor 
of  the  queen,  and  Hortense,  although  low-spirited  and 
indisposed,  summoned  her  resolution  to  her  aid,  and 
arrayed  herself  for  the  occasion.  Her  blond  hair,  that 
reached  to  her  feet  when  unbound,  was  dressed  in  the 
ancient  Greek  style,  and  adorned  with  a  wreath  of  flow- 
ers, not  natural  flowers,  however,  but  consisting  of  Hor» 
tensias  in  diamonds.  Her  dress  was  of  pink-crape  em- 
broidered with  Hortensias  in  silver.  The  hem  of  her 
dress  and  its  train  was  encircled  with  a  garland  of  flow- 
ers composed  of  roses  and  violets.  A  bouquet  of  Hor- 
tensias in  diamonds  glittered  on  her  bosom,  and  her 
necklace  and  bracelets  consisted  of  little  diamond  Hor- 
tensias. In  this  rich  and  tasteful  attire,  a  present  sent 
her  by  the  Empress  Josephine  the  day  before,  Hortense 


152  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

entered  the  parlor  where  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  her 
court  awaited  her,  brilliantly  arrayed  for  the  occasion. 

The  parlor,  filled  with  these  ladies  glittering  with 
diamonds,  and  with  these  cavaliers  in  their  rich,  gold- 
embroidered  uniforms,  presented  a  brilliant  spectacle. 
The  queen's  two  sons,  who  came  running  into  the  room 
at  this  moment  to  bid  their  "  bonne  petite  maman  "  adieu, 
stood  still  for  an  instant,  dazzled  by  this  magnificence, 
and  then  timidly  approached  the  mother  who  seemed  to 
them  a  queen  from  the  fairy -realm  floating  in  rosy 
clouds.  The  queen  divined  the  thoughts  of  her  boys, 
whose  countenances  were  for  her  an  open  book  in  which 
she  read  every  emotion. 

She  extended  a  hand  to  each  of  her  children,  and  led 
them  to  a  sofa,  on  which  she  seated  herself,  taking  the 
youngest,  Louis  ITapoleon,  who  was  scarcely  six  year* 
old,  in  her  lap,  while  his  elder  brother,  Napoleon  Louis, 
stood  at  her  side,  his  curly  head  resting  on  Hortense's 
shoulder,  gazing  tenderly  into  the  pale,  expressive  face 
of  his  beautiful  mother. 

"  I  am  very  prettily  dressed  to-day,  am  I  not,  ^NTapo- 
leon  ? "  said  Hortense,  laying  her  little  hand,  that  sparkled 
with  diamonds,  on  the  head  of  her  eldest  son.  "  Would 
you  like  me  less  if  I  were  poor,  and  wore  no  diamonds, 
but  merely  a  plain  black  dress  ?  "Would  you  love  me  less 
then  ? " 

"  1^0,  marmm  !  "  exclaimed  the  boy,  almost  angrily, 
and  little  Louis  Napoleon,  who  sat  in  his  mother's  lap, 
repeated  in  his  shrill  little  voice  :  "  No,  maman  !  " 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AS  A  VENDER  OF   VIOLETS.  153 

The  queen  smiled.  "  Diamonds  and  dress  do  not  con- 
stitute happiness,  and  we  three  would  love  each  other  just 
as  much  if  we  had  no  jewelry,  and  were  poor.  But  tell 
me,  Napoleon,  if  you  had  nothing,  and  were  entirely 
alone  in  the  world,  what  would  you  do  for  yourself  ? " 

"I  would  become  a  soldier,"  cried  Napoleon,  with 
sparkling  eyes,  "and  I  would  fight  so  bravely  that  I 
should  soon  be  made  an  officer." 

"  And  you,  Louis,  what  would  yon  do  to  earn  your 
daily  bread  ? " 

The  little  fellow  had  listened  earnestly  to  his  brother's 
words,  and  seemed  to  be  thinking  over  them  still.  Per- 
haps he  felt  that  the  knapsack  and  musket  were  too  heavy 
for  his  little  shoulders,  and  that  he  was,  as  yet,  too  weak 
to  become  a  soldier. 

"  I,"  said  he,  after  a  pause,  "  I  would  sell  bouquets  of 
violets,  like  the  little  boy  who  stands  at  the  gates  of  the 
Tuileries,  and  from  whom  we  buy  our  flowers  every  day." 

The  ladies  and  cavaliers,  who  had  listened  to  this 
curious  conversation  in  silence,  now  laughed  loudly  at 
this  naive  reply  of  the  little  prince. 

"  Do  not  laugh,  ladies,"  said  the  queen,  earnestly,  as 
she  now  arose ;  "  it  was  no  jest,  but  a  lesson  that  I  gave 
my  children,  who  were  so  dazzled  by  jewelry.  It  is  the 
misfortune  of  princes  that  they  believe  that  everything  is 
subject  to  them,  that  they  are  made  of  another  stuff  than 
other  men,  and  have  no  duties  to  perform.  They  know 
nothing  of  human  suffering  and  want,  and  do  not  believe 
that  they  can  ever  be  affected  by  anything  of  the  kind. 


154  QUEEN  HORTENSB. 

And  this  is  wlij  they  are  so  astounded,  and  remain  so 
helpless,  when  the  hand  of  misfortune  does  strike  them» 
I  wish  to  preserve  my  sons  from  this."  * 

She  then  stooped  and  kissed  her  boys,  who,  while 
she  and  her  brilliant  suite  were  driving  to  the  Tuileries, 
busied  their  little  heads,  considering  whether  it  was  easier 
to  earn  one's  bread  as  a  soldier,  or  by  selling  violet&  a> 
the  gates  of  the  Tuileries,  like  the  little  beggar-boy. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE   DAYS   OF   MISFORTUNE. 

The  round  of  festivities  with  which  the  people  of 
France  endeavored  to  banish  the  shadow  of  impending 
misfortune,  was  soon  to  be  abruptly  terminated.  The 
thunder  of  the  cannon  on  the  battle-fields  of  Hanau  and 
Leipsic  silenced  the  dancing-music  in  the  Tuileries ;  and 
in  the  drawing-rooms  of  Queen  Hortense,  hitherto  de- 
voted to  music  and  literature,  the  ladies  were  now  busily 
engaged  in  picking  lint  for  the  wounded  who  were  daily 
arriving  at  the  hospitals  of  Paris  from  the  army.  The 
declaration  of  war  of  Austria  and  Russia  had  aroused 
Prance  from  its  haughty  sense  of  invincibility.  All  felt 
that  a  crisis  was  at  hand.  All  were  preparing  for  the 
ominous  events  that  were  gathering  like  storm-clouds 
over  France.     Each  of  the  faithful  hastened  to  assume 

*  The  queen's  own  words» 


THE  DAYS  OF  MISFORTUNE.  155 

the  position  to  which  honor  and  duty  called  him.  And 
it  was  in  response  to  such  an  appeal  that  Louis  Bonaparte 
now  returned  from  Gratz  to  Paris ;  he  had  heard  the> 
ominous  tones  of  the  voice  that  threatened  the  emperor, 
and  wished  to  be  at  his  side  in  the  hour  of  danger. 

It  was  not  as  the  wife,  but  in  the  spirit  of  a  French- 
woman and  a  queen,  that  Hortense  received  the  intelli- 
gence of  her  husband's  return.  "  I  am  delighted  to  hear 
it,"  said  she ;  "  my  husband  is  a  good  Frenchman,  and  he 
proves  it  by  returning  at  the  moment  when  all  Europe 
has  declared  against  France.  He  is  a  man  of  honor,  and 
if  our  characters  could  not  be  made  to  harmonize,  it  was 
probably  because  we  both  had  defects  that  were  irrecon- 
cilable. 

"  I,"  added  she,  with  a  gentle  smile,  "  I  was  too  proud,. 
I  had  been  spoiled,  and  was  probably  too  deeply  impressed 
with  a  sense  of  my  own  worth ;  and  this  defect  is  not 
conducive  to  pleasant  relations  with  one  who  is  distrust- 
ful and  low-spirited.  But  our  interests  were  always  the 
same,  and  his  hastening  to  France,  to  enroll  himself  witb 
all  his  brother  Frenchmen,  for  the  defence  of  his  country, 
is  worthy  of  the  king's  character.  It  is  only  by  doing 
thus  that  we  can  testify  our  gratitude  for  the  benefits 
the  people  have  conferred  upon  our  family."  * 

In  the  first  days  of  January,  1814,  the  news  that  the 
enemy  had  crossed  the  boundaries  of  France,  and  that 
the  Austrians,  Russians,  and  Prussians,  were  marching  on: 
Paris,  created  a  panic  throughout  the  entire  city.     For 

^  CbclieXet,  M^moires  sur  la  reine  Hortease,  toL  L,  p.  167. 


166  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

the  first  time,  after  so  many  years  of  trimnpli,  France 
trembled  for  its  proud  army,  and  believed  in  the  possi- 
bility of  defeat. 

In  the  Tuileries,  also,  gloom  and  dejection  ruled  the 
hour  for  the  first  time ;  and  while,  when  the  army  had 
heretofore  gone  forth,  the  question  had  been,  "When 
shall  we  receive  the  first  intelligence  of  victory  ?  "  there 
were  now  only  mute,  inquiring  glances  bent  on  the  em- 
peror's clouded  countenance. 

On  the  24:th  of  January,  Napoleon  left  Paris,  in  or- 
der to  repair  to  the  army.  The  empress,  whom  he  had 
made  regent,  giving  her  a  council,  consisting  of  his 
brothers  and  the  ministers,  as  a  support — the  empress 
had  taken  leave  of  him  in  a  flood  of  tears,  and  Queen 
Hortense,  who  had  alone  been  present  on  this  occasion, 
had  been  compelled  to  remain  for  some  time  with  the 
empress,  in  order  to  console  and  encourage  her. 

But  Hortense  was  far  from  feeling  the  confidence 
which  she  exhibited  in  the  presence  of  the  empress  and 
of  her  own  court.  She  had  never  believed  in  the  dura- 
tion of  these  triumphs  and  of  this  fortune;  she  had 
always  awaited  the  coming  evil  in  silent  expectation, 
and  she  was  therefore  now  ready  to  face  it  bravely,  and 
to  defend  herself  and  her  children  against  its  attacks. 
She  therefore  was  calm  and  self-possessed,  while  the  en- 
tire imperial  family  was  terror-stricken,  while  all  Paris 
was  in  a  panic,  while  the  fearful  intelligence,  "  The  Cos- 
sacks are  coming,  the  Cossacks  are  marching  on  Paris !  *' 
was  overrunning  the  city.     "The  Grand-duke  Constan- 


THE  DAYS  OP  MISFORTUNE.  157 

tine  has  promised  his  troops  that  they  shall  warm  them- 
eelves  at  the  burning  ruins  of  Paris,  and  the  Emperor 
Alexander  has  sworn  that  he  will  sleep  in  the  Tuileries." 

Nothing  was  now  dreamed  of  but  plundering,  mur- 
der, and  rapine;  people  trembled  not  only  for  their 
lives,  but  also  for  their  property,  and  hastened  to  bury 
their  treasures,  their  jewelry,  their  gold  and  silver,  to 
secure  it  from  the  rapacious  hands  of  the  terrible  Cos- 
sacks. Treasures  were  buried  in  cellars,  or  hid  away 
in  the  walls  of  houses.  The  Duchess  de  Bassano  caused 
all  her  valuable  effects  to  be  put  in  a  hidden  recess,  and 
the  entrance  to  the  same  to  be  walled  up  and  covered 
with  paper.  There  were  among  these  valuable  effects 
several  large  clocks,  in  golden  cases,  that  were  richly 
studded  with  precious  stones,  but  it  had  unfortunately 
been  forgotten  to  stop  them,  so  that  for  the  next  week 
they  continued  to  strike  the  hours  regularly,  and  thereby 
betrayed  to  the  neighbors  the  secret  the  duchess  had  so 
anxiously  endeavored  to  conceal. 

But  the  cry,  "  The  Cossacks  are  coming  I "  was  not 
the  only  alarm-cry  of  the  Parisians.  Another,  and  a 
long-silent  cry,  was  now  heard  in  Paris — a  strange  cry, 
that  had  no  music  for  the  ear  of  the  imperialist,  but  one 
that,  to  the  royalist,  had  a  sweet  and  familiar  sound. 
This  cry  was,  "  The  Count  de  Lille ! "  or,  as  the  royalists 
said,  "King  Louis  XVIII."  The  royalists  no  longer 
whispered  this  name,  but  proclaimed  it  loudly  and  with 
enthusiasm,  and  even  those  of  them  who  had  attached 
themselves  to  the  imperial  court,  and  played  a  part  at 


158  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

the  same,  now  dared  to  remove  their  masks  a  little,  and 
show  their  true  countenance. 

Madame  Ducayla,  one  of  the  most  zealous  royalists, 
although  attached  to  the  court  society  of  the  Tuileries, 
had  gone  to  Hartwell,  to  convey  to  him  messages  of  love 
and  respect  in  the  name  of  all  the  royalists  of  Paris,  and 
to  tell  him  that  they  had  now  begun  to  smooth  the  way 
for  his  return  to  France  and  the  throne  of  his  ancestors. 
She  had  returned  with  authority  to  organize  the  con- 
spiracy of  the  royalists,  and  to  give  them  the  king's  sanc- 
tion. Talleyrand,  the  minister  of  Napoleon,  the  glitter- 
ing weathercock  in  politics,  had  already  experienced  a 
change  in  disposition,  in  consequence  of  the  shifting  po- 
litical wind,  and  when  Countess  Ducayla,  provided  with 
secret  instructions  for  Talleyrand  from  Louis  XYIII., 
entered  his  cabinet  and  said  in  a  loud  voice,  "  I  come 
from  Hartwell,  I  have  seen  the  king,  and  he  has  in- 
structed me — "  he  interrupted  her  in  loud  and  angry 
tones,  exclaiming  :  "  Are  you  mad,  madame  ?  You  dare 
to  confess  such  a  crime  to  me?"  He  had,  however, 
then  added  in  a  low  voice :  "  You  have  seen  him,  then  ? 
"Well,  I  am  his  most  devoted  servant."  * 

The  royalists  held  meetings  and  formed  conspiracies 
with  but  little  attempt  at  concealment;  and  the  minister 
of  police,  Fouche,  whose  eyes  and  ears  were  always  on 
the  alert,  and  who  knew  of  everything  that  occurred  in 
Paris,  also  knew  of  these  conspiracies  of  the  royalists; 
lie  did  not  prevent  them,  however,  but  advised  caution, 

♦  Memoires  d'une  femme  de  qualite,  vol.  i.,  p.  133. 


THE  DAYS  OP  MISFORTUNE.  15^ 

endeavoring  to  prove  to  them  thereby  the  deep  rever- 
ence which  he  himself  experienced  for  the  unfortunate 
royal  family. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  confusion  and  anxiety,  Queen 
Hortense  alone  preserved  her  composure  and  courage, 
and  far  from  endeavoring,  like  others,  to  conceal  and 
secure  her  treasures,  jewelry,  and  other  valuables,  she  de- 
termined to  make  no  change  or  reduction  whatever  in 
her  manner  of  living ;  she  wished  to  show  the  Parisians- 
that  the  confidence  of  the  imperial  family  in  the  emperor 
and  his  invincibility  was  not  to  be  shaken.  She  there- 
fore continued  to  conduct  her  household  in  truly  royal 
style,  although  she  had  received  from  the  exhausted 
state  treasury  no  payment  of  the  appanage  set  apart  for 
herself  and  children  for  a  period  of  three  months.  But 
she  thought  little  of  this ;  her  generous  heart  was  occu- 
pied with  entirely  different  interests  than  those  of  her 
own  pecuniary  affairs. 

She  wished  to  inspire  Marie  Louise,  whom  the  em- 
peror had  constituted  empress-regent  on  his  departure 
for  the  army,  with  the  courage  which  she  herself  pos- 
sessed. She  conjured  her  to  show  herself  worthy  of  the 
confidence  the  emperor  had  reposed  in  her  at  this  critical 
time,  and  to  adopt  firm  and  energetic  measures.  When, 
on  the  28th  of  March,  the  terror-inspiring  news  was  cir- 
culated that  the  hostile  armies  were  only  five  leagues 
from  Paris,  and  while  the  people  were  flying  from  the 
city  in  troops,  Hortense  hastened  to  the  Tuileries  to  con- 
jure the  empress  to  be  firm,  and  not  to  leave  Paris.    She 


160  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

entreated  Marie  Louise,  in  the  name  of  the  emperor,  her 
husband,  and  the  King  of  Rome,  her  son,  not  to  heed 
the  voice  of  the  state  council,  who,  after  a  long  sitting, 
had  unanimously  declared  that  Paris  could  not  be  held, 
and  that  the  empress,  with  her  son  and  her  council, 
should  therefore  leave  the  capital. 

But  Marie  Louise  had  remained  deaf  to  all  these 
pressing-  and  energetic  representations,  and  the  queen 
had  not  been  able  to  inspire  her  young  and  weak  sister- 
in-law  with  her  own  resolution. 

''  My  sister,"  Hortense  had  said  to  her,  "  you  will  at 
least  understand  that  by  leaving  Paris  now  you  paralyze 
its  defence,  and  thereby  endanger  your  crown,  but  I  see 
that  you  are  resigned  to  this  sacrifice." 

"It  is  true,"  Marie  Louise  had  sadly  replied.  "I 
well  know  that  I  should  act  differently,  but  it  is  too  late. 
The  state  council  has  decided,  and  I  can  do  nothing !  " 

In  sadness  and  dejection  Hortense  had  then  returned 
to  her  dwelling,  where  Lavalette,  Madame  Ney,  and  the 
ladies  of  her  court,  awaited  her. 

"  All  is  lost,"  said  she,  sadly.  "  Yes,  all  is  lost.  The 
empress  has  determined  to  leave  Paris.  She  lightly  aban- 
dons France  and  the  emperor.     She  is  about  to  depart." 

"  If  she  does  that,"  exclaimed  General  Lavalette,  in 
despair,  "  then  all  is  really  lost,  and  yet  her  firmness 
and  courage  might  now  save  the  emperor,  who  is  ad- 
vancing toward  Paris  by  forced  marches.  After  all  this 
weighing  and  deliberating,  they  have  elected  to  take  the 
worst  course  they  could  choose  !     But,  as  this  has  finally 


THB  DAYS  OP  MISFORTUNE.  161 

been  determined  on,  what  course  will  your  majesty  now 
pursue  ? " 

"  I  remain  in  Paris,"  said  the  queen,  resolutely ;  **  as 
I  am  permitted  to  be  mistress  of  my  own  actions,  I  am 
resolved  to  remain  here  and  share  the  fortunes  of  the 
Parisians,  be  they  good  or  evil !  This  is  at  least  a  better 
and  worthier  course  than  to  incur  the  risk  of  being  made 
a  prisoner  on  the  public  highway." 

Now  that  she  had  come  to  a  decision,  the  queen  ex- 
hibited a  joyous  determination,  and  her  mind  recovered 
from  its  depression.  She  hastened  to  dispatch  a  courier 
to  Malmaison  to  the  Empress  Josephine,  now  forgotten 
and  neglected  by  all,  to  conjure  her  to  leave  for  Novara 
at  once.  She  then  retired  to  her  bedchamber  to  seek  the 
rest  she  so  much  needed  after  so  many  hours  of  excite- 
ment. 

But  at  midnight  she  was  aroused  from  her  repose  to  a 
sad  awakening.  Her  husband,  with  whom  she  had  held 
no  kind  of  intercourse  since  his  return,  had  now,  in  the 
hour  of  danger,  determined  to  assert  his  marital  authority 
over  his  wife  and  children.  He  wrote  the  queen  a  letter, 
requiring  her  to  leave  Paris  with  her  children,  and  follow 
the  empress. 

Hortense  replied  with  a  decided  refusal.  A  second 
categoric  message  from  her  husband  was  the  response. 
He  declared  that  if  she  should  not  at  once  conform  to 
his  wOl,  and  follow  the  empress  with  her  children,  he 
would  immediately  take  his  children  into  his  own  cus- 
tody, by  virtue  of  his  authority  as  husband  and  father. 


162  QUEEN  HORTENSB. 

At  this  threat,  the  queen  sprang  np  like  an  enraged 
lioness  from  her  lair.  With  glowing  cheeks  and  spark- 
ling eyes  she  commanded  that  her  children  should  be  at 
once  brought  to  her,  and  then,  pressing  her  two  boys 
to  her  heart  with  passionate  tenderness,  she  exclaimed : 
"Tell  the  king  that  I  shall  leave  the  city  within  the 
Lour  I " 


CHAPTEK  XIII. 

THE  ALLIES   IN   PARIS. 

The  anxiety  of  motherly  love  had  effected  what 
neither  the  departure  of  the  empress  nor  the  news  of  the 
Approach  of  the  Cossacks  could  do.  Hortense  had  taken 
her  departure.  She  had  quitted  Paris,  with  her  children 
.and  suite,  which  had  already  begun  to  grow  sensibly 
smaller,  and  arrived,  after  a  hurried  flight,  endangered 
by  bands  of  marauding  Cossacks,  in  Novara,  where  the 
Empress  Josephine,  with  tears  of  sorrow  and  of  joy  alike, 
pressed  her  daughter  to  her  heart.  Although  her  own 
happiness  and  grandeur  were  gone,  and  although  the 
misfortunes  of  the  Emperor  ISTapoleon — whom  she  still 
dearly  loved — oppressed  her  heart,  Josephine  now  had 
her  daughter  and  dearest  friend  at  her  side,  and  that  was 
a  sweet  consolation  in  the  midst  of  all  these  misfortunes 
and  cares. 

At  Kovara,  Hortense  received  the  intelligence  of  the 
fall  of  the  empire,  of  the  capitulation  of  Paris,  of  the 


THE   ATiLIKS  IN  PARIS.  163 

entrance  of  the  allies,  and  of  the  abdication  of  Na» 
poleon. 

When  the  courier  sent  bj  the  Duke  of  Bassano  with 
this  intelligence  further  informed  the  Empress  Josephine 
that  the  island  of  Elba  had  been  assigned  Napoleon  as  a 
domicile,  and  that  he  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  France 
to  go  into  exile,  Josephine  fell,  amid  tears  of  anguish, 
into  her  daughter's  arms,  crying :  "  Hortense,  he  is  un- 
happy, and  I  am  not  with  him  !  He  is  banished  to  Elba  I 
Alas !  but  for  his  wife,  I  would  hasten  to  his  side,  to  share 
his  exile ! " 

While  the  empress  was  weeping  and  lamenting,  Hor- 
tense had  silently  withdrawn  to  her  apartments.  She 
«aw  and  fully  appreciated  the  consequences  that  must 
ensue  to  the  emperor's  entire  family,  from  his  fall ;  she 
already  felt  the  mortifications  and  insults  to  which  the 
Bonapartes  would  now  be  exposed  from  all  quarters,  and 
she  wished  to  withdraw  herself  and  children  from  their 
influence.  She  formed  a  quick  resolve,  and  determined 
to  carry  it  out  at  once.  She  caused  Mademoiselle  de 
Cochelet,  one  of  the  few  ladies  of  her  court  who  haa 
remained  faithful,  to  be  called,  in  order  that  she  might 
impart  to  her  her  resolution. 

"  Louise,"  said  she,  "  I  intend  to  emigrate.  I  am 
alone  and  defenceless,  and  ever  threatened  by  a  misfor- 
tune that  would  be  more  cruel  than  the  loss  of  crown 
and  grandeur — the  misfortune  of  seeing  my  children  torn 
from  me  by  my  husband.  My  mother  can  remain  is 
France — her  divorce  has  made  her  free  and  independent; 


164  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

but  I  bear  a  name  that  will  no  longer  be  gladly  heard  in 
France,  now  that  the  Bourbons  are  returning.  I  have 
no  other  fortune  than  my  diamonds.  These  I  shall  sell, 
and  then  go,  with  my  children,  to  my  mother's  estate  in 
Martinique.  I  lived  there  when  a  child,  and  have  re- 
tained a  pleasant  remembrance  of  the  place.  It  is  un- 
doubtedly hard  to  be  compelled  to  give  up  country, 
mother,  and  friends  ;  but  one  must  face  these  great 
strokes  of  destiny  courageously.  I  will  give  my  children 
a  good  education,  and  that  shall  be  my  consolation." 

Mademoiselle  de  Cochelet  burst  into  tears,  kissed  the 
queen's  extended  hand,  and  begged  so  earnestly  that  she 
might  be  permitted  to  accompany  her,  that  Hortense  at 
last  gave  a  reluctant  consent.  It  was  arranged  between 
them  that  Louise  should  hasten  to  Paris,  in  order  to 
make  the  necessary  preparations  for  the  queen's  long 
journey ;  and  she  departed  on  this  mission,  under  the 
protection  of  the  courier,  on  the  following  morning. 

How  changed  and  terrible  was  the  aspect  Paris  pre* 
sented  on  her  arrival !  At  the  gate  through  which  they 
entered  Cossacks  stood  on  guard ;  the  streets  were  filled 
with  Eussian,  Austrian,  and  Prussian  soldiery,  at  whose 
side  the  proud  ladies  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  were 
to  be  seen  walking,  in  joyous  triumph,  bestowing  upon 
the  vanquishers  of  France  as  great  a  devotion  as  they 
could  have  lavished  upon  the  beloved  Bourbons  them- 
selves, whose  return  was  expected  in  a  few  days. 

A  Swedish  regiment  was  quartered  in  the  queen's 
dwelling  ;  her  servants  had  fled  ;  her  glittering  drawing- 


THB  ALLIES  IN  PARIS.  165 

rooms  now  sheltered  the  conquerors  of  France ;  and  in 
the  Tuileries  preparations  were  already  being  made  for 
the  reception  of  the  Bourbons. 

No  one  dared  to  pronounce  the  name  of  Is'apoleon. 
Those  who  were  formerly  his  most  zealous  flatterers  were 
now  the  most  ready  to  condemn  him.  Those  upon  whom 
he  had  conferred  the  greatest  benefits  were  now  the  first 
to  deny  him,  hoping  thereby  to  wipe  out  the  remembrance 
of  the  benefits  they  had  received.  The  most  zealous  Na- 
poleonists  now  became  the  most  ardent  royalists,  and 
placed  the  largest  white  cockades  in  their  hats,  in  order 
that  they  might  the  sooner  attract  the  attention  of  the 
new  rulers. 

But  there  was  still  one  man  who  pronounced  the  name 
of  Napoleon  loudly,  and  with  affectionate  admiration,  and 
publicly  accorded  him  the  tribute  of  his  respect. 

This  one  was  the  Emperor  Alexander  of  Russia.  He 
had  loved  Napoleon  so  dearly,  that  even  the  position  of 
hostility  which  policy  compelled  him  to  assume  could  not 
banish  from  his  heart  friendship  for  the  hero  who  had  so 
long  ruled  Europe. 

Napoleon's  fate  was  decided  ;  and  it  was  attributable 
to  the  zealous  efforts  of  the  czar  that  the  allies  had  con- 
sented to  the  emperor's  demands,  and  appointed  him  sov- 
ereign of  the  island  of  Elba.  Now  that  Alexander  could 
do  nothing  more  for  Napoleon,  he  desired  to  make  him- 
self useful  to  his  family,  at  least,  and  thereby  testify  the 
admiration  which  he  still  felt  for  the  fallen  Titan. 

The  Empress  Marie  Louise  and  the  little  King  of 


IQQ  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

Rome  had  no  need  of  his  assistance.  The  empress  had 
not  availed  herself  of  the  permission  of  the  allies  to  ac- 
company her  husband  to  Elba,  but  had  placed  herself  and 
son  under  the  protection  of  her  father,  the  Emperor  of 
Austria. 

The  Emperor  Alexander  therefore  bestowed  his  whole 
sympathy  upon  Napoleon's  divorced  wife  and  her  chil- 
dren, the  Viceroy  of  Italy  and  the  Queen  of  Holland. 
He  took  so  great  an  interest  in  the  queen,  that  he  de- 
clared his  intention,  in  case  Hortense  should  not  come 
to  Paris,  of  going  to  ]S"ovara  to  see  her,  in  order  to  learn 
from  her  own  lips  in  what  manner  he  could  serve  her, 
and  how  she  desired  that  her  future  should  be  shaped. 

Count  Kesselrode,  the  emperor's  minister,  was  also 
zealous  in  his  endeavors  to  serve  the  queen.  The  count 
had  long  been  the  intimate  friend  of  Louise  de  Cochelet ; 
and,  desirous  of  giving  her  a  further  proof  of  his  friend- 
ship, he  knew  of  no  better  way  of  doing  so  than  by  ren- 
dering a  service  to  Queen  Hortense  and  her  children. 
Louise  informed  the  count  of  the  queen's  intended  de- 
parture for  Martinique.  Count  Nesselrode  smiled  sadly 
over  this  desperate  resolve  of  a  brave  mother's  heart,  and 
instructed  Louise  to  beg  the  queen  to  impart  to  him, 
through  her  confidante,  all  her  wishes  and  demands,  in 
order  that  he  might  lay  them  before  the  emperor. 

The  queen's  fate  was  the  subject  of  great  sympathy  in 
all  quarters.  When,  in  one  of  the  sessions  of  the  min- 
isters of  the  allies,  in  which  the  fate  of  France,  of  the 
Bourbons,  and  of  the  Bonapartes,  was  to  be  the  subject 


THE  ALLIES  IN  PARIS.  167 

of  deliberation,  the  question  of  making  some  provision 
for  the  emperor's  family  came  up  for  consideration,  the 
Prince  of  Benevento  exclaimed  :  "  I  plead  for  Queen 
Hortense  alone  ;  for  she  is  the  only  one  for  whom  I 
have  any  esteem."  Count  Nesselrode  added :  "  Who 
would  not  be  proud  to  claim  her  as  a  countrywoman? 
She  is  the  pearl  of  her  France ! "  And  Metternich 
united  with  the  rest  in  her  praise.* 

But  it  was  in  vain  that  Louise  de  Cochelet  imparted 
this  intelligence  to  the  queen ;  the  entreaties  and  repre- 
sentations of  her  friends  were  powerless  to  persuade  Hor- 
tense to  leave  her  retirement  and  come  to  Paris. 

The  following  letter  of  the  queen,  written  to  Louise, 
•concerning  her  affairs,  will  testify  to  her  beautiful  and 
-womanly  sentiments.     This  letter  is  as  follows  : 

"  My  dear  Louise, — You  and  all  my  friends  write  me 
the  same  questions  :  *  What  do  you  want  ?  What  do  you 
-demand  ? '  I  reply  to  all  of  you  :  I  want  nothing  what- 
ever I  What  should  I  desire  ?  Is  not  my  fate  already 
determined  ?  When  one  has  the  strength  to  form  a  great 
resolution,  and  when  one  can  firmly  and  calmly  contem- 
plate the  idea  of  making  a  journey  to  India  or  America, 
it  is  unnecessary  to  demand  any  thing  of  any  one.  I  en- 
treat you  to  take  no  steps  that  I  should  be  compelled  to 
disavow ;  I  know  that  you  love  me,  and  this  might  induce 
you  to  do  80.  I  am  really  not  to  be  pitied  ;  it  was  in  the 
midst  of  grandeur  and  splendor  that  I  have  suffered  !    I 

♦  Cochelet,  voL  L,  p  379, 


168  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

shall  now,  perhaps,  learn  the  happiness  of  retirement,  and 
prefer  it  to  all  the  magnificence  that  once  surrounded 
me.  I  do  not  believe  I  can  remain  in  France  ;  the  lively 
interest  now  shown  in  my  behalf  might  eventually  occa- 
sion mistrust.  This  idea  is  annihilating  ;  I  feel  it,  but 
I  shall  not  willingly  occasion  sorrow  to  any  one.  My 
brother  will  be  happy ;  my  mother  can  remain  in  her 
country,  and  retain  her  estates.  I,  with  my  children, 
shall  go  to  a  foreign  land,  and,  as  the  happiness  of  those 
I  love  is  assured,  I  shall  be  able  to  bear  the  misfortune 
that  strikes  only  at  my  material  interests,  but  not  at  my 
heart.  I  am  still  deeply  moved  and  confounded  by  the 
fate  that  has  overtaken  the  Emperor  ^Napoleon  and  his 
family.  Is  it  true  ?  Has  all  been  finally  determined  ? 
Write  me  on  this  subject.  I  hope  that  my  children  will 
not  be  taken  from  me ;  in  that  case  I  should  lose  all 
courage.  I  will  so  educate  them  that  they  shall  be  happy 
in  any  station  of  life.  I  shall  teach  them  to  bear  fortune 
and  misfortune  with  equal  dignity,  and  to  seek  true  hap- 
piness in  contentment  with  themselves.  This  is  worth 
more  than  crowns.  Fortunately,  they  are  healthy.  Thank 
Count  Kesselrode  for  his  sympathy.  I  assure  you  there 
are  days  that  are  properly  called  days  of  misfortune,  and 
that  are  yet  not  without  a  charm  ;  such  are  those  that 
enable  us  to  discern  the  true  sentiments  people  hold 
toward  us.  I  rejoice  over  the  affection  which  you  show 
me,  and  it  will  always  afford  me  gratification  to  tell  you 
that  I  return  it.  Hortense."  * 

*  Cochelet,  vol.  i.,  pp.  275-277. 


THE  QUEEN  AND  LOUISE  DE  COCHELET.        169 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

C0BEE8P0NDENCE   BETWEEN   THE   QUEEN   AND   LOUISE   DB 
COCHELET. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Hortense  was  still  living  with  her 
mother  in  Novara,  firmly  resolved  to  remain  in  her  re- 
tirement, sorrowing  over  the  fate  of  the  imperial  house, 
but  quite  indifferent  as  to  her  own  fate. 

But  her  friends — and  even  in  misfortune  Hortense 
still  had  friends — and  above  all  her  truest  friend,  Louise 
de  Cochelet,  busied  themselves  all  the  more  about  her 
future,  endeavoring  to  rescue  out  of  the  general  wreck 
of  the  imperial  house  at  least  a  few  fragments  for  the 
queen. 

Louise  de  Cochelet  was  still  sojourning  in  Paris,  and 
the  letters  which  she  daily  wrote  to  the  queen  at  Novara, 
and  in  which  she  informed  her  of  all  that  was  taking 
place  in  the  city,  are  so  true  a  picture  of  that  strange  and 
confused  era,  that  we  cannot  refrain  from  here  inserting 
some  of  them. 

In  one  of  her  first  letters  Louise  de  Cochelet  relates 
a  conversation  which  she  had  had  with  Count  Nessel- 
rode,  in  relation  to  the  queen's  future. 

"  The  Bourbons,"  she  writes,  "  have  now  been  finally 
accepted.  I  asked  Count  Nesselrode,  whom  I  have  just 
left :  *  Do  you  believe  that  the  queen  will  be  permitted 
to  remain  in  France  ?    Will  the  new  rulers  consider  this 

proper  ? '     *  Certainly,'  he  replied,  *  I  am  sure  of  it,  for 

12 


170  QUEEN  HORTENSB. 

we  will  make  it  a  condition  with  them,  and  without  u& 
they  would  never  have  come  to  the  throne  at  all !  It  is. 
not  the  Bourbons,  but  it  is  we,  it  is  all  Europe,  that 
arranges  and  regulates  these  matters.  I  therefore  trust: 
that  they  will  never  violate  the  agreement.  Rest  assured, 
that  the  Emperor  Alexander  will  always  support  the 
right.' 

"  All  of  these  strangers  here  speak  of  you,  madame,. 
with  great  enthusiasm.  Metternich,  who  doubtlessly 
recollects  your  great  kindness  to  his  wife  and  children,, 
inquired  after  you  with  lively  interest.  Prince  Leopold 
is  devotedly  attached  to  yourself  and  the  Empress  Jo« 
sephine,  and  ardently  desires  to  be  able  to  serve  you. 
both.  Count  JSTesselrode  thinks  it  would  be  well  for  you. 
to  write  to  the  Emperor  Alexander,  as  he  takes  so  warm 
an  interest  in  your  affairs. 

"The  old  nobility  is  already  much  discontented;  it 
considers  itself  debased,  because  it  sees  itself  mixed  with 
BO  many  new  elements." 

"  Come  to  Malmaison  with  the  empress,"  she  writes  a. 
few  days  later,  "the  Emperor  Alexander  will  then  go- 
there  at  once  to  meet  you ;  he  is  anxious  to  make  your 
acquaintance,  and  you  already  owe  him  some  thanks,  as 
he  devotes  himself  to  your  interests  as  though  they  were 
his  own.  The  Duke  of  Yicenza,  who  demeans  himself 
so  worthily  with  regard  to  the  Emperor  I^apoleon,  re- 
quests me  to  inform  vou  that  the  future  of  your  childreni 
depends  on  your  coming  to  Malmaison. 

"The  Emperor  Napoleon  has  signed  an  agreement^. 


THE  QUEEN  AND  LOUISE  DE  COCHELET.        171 

that  secures  the  future  of  all  the  members  of  his  family  ; 
you  can  remain  in  France,  and  retain  your  titles.  You 
are  to  have  for  yourself  and  children  an  income  of  four 
hundred  thousand  francs. 

"  It  is  said  here  that  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  is 
furious  over  the  brilliant  positions  provided  for  the  im- 
perial family  and  the  empress.  This  is  their  gratitude 
for  all  her  goodness  to  them. 

"  You  wish  to  make  Switzerland  your  home.  Count 
Nesselrode  thinks  you  may  be  right,  that  it  is  a  good  re- 
treat; but  you  should  not  give  up  the  one  you  have 
here,  and  should  in  any  event  retain  the  right  to  return 
to  France. 

"  Fancy,  madame.  Count  Nesselrode  insists  on  my 
seeing  his  emperor !  I  have  not  yet  consented,  because 
I  do  not  like  to  do  any  thing  without  your  assent ;  but  I 
confess  I  long  to  make  his  acquaintance.  I  am  made 
quite  happy  by  hearing  you  so  well  spoken  of  here. 

"  Count  Nesselrode  said  to  me  yesterday :  *  Tell  the 
queen  that  I  shall  be  happy  to  fulfil  all  her  wishes,  and 
that  I  can  do  so,  that  I  have  the  power.'  For  great  Be- 
curity  he  wishes  to  have  a  future  assured  you  that  shall 
be  independent  of  the  treaty.  I  do  not  know  what  to 
say  to  him.  Write  to  me,  and  demand  something,  I  con- 
jure you  1 " 

The  queen's  only  response  to  this  appeal  was  a  letter 
addressed  to  the  Emperor  Napoleon,  and  sent  to  Count 
Nesselrode,  with  the  request  that  it  should  be  forwarded 
to  its  destination. 


172  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

"  It  is  strange,"  wrote  Louise  de  Coclielet  in  relation 
to  this  matter — "  strange  that  all  my  efforts  to  serve  you 
here  have  had  no  other  result  than  your  sending  a  com- 
mission to  Count  Nesselrode  to  forward  to  Fontainebleau 
a  letter  addressed  to  the  Emperor  Napoleon.  He  at  first 
thought  I  was  bringing  him  the  letter  he  had  solicited 
for  his  emperor ;  but  he  well  knows  how  to  appreciate 
all  that  is  noble  and  great,  and  as  he  possesses  the  most 
admirable  tact,  he  thinks  the  letter  cannot  well  reach  the 
emperor  through  him,  and  will  therefore  send  it  to  the 
Duke  of  Yicenza,  at  Fontainebleau,  to  be  delivered  by 
Mm  to  the  Emperor  Napoleon." 

Another  letter  of  Louise  de  Cochelet  is  as  follows : 
"  I  have  just  seen  Count  Nesselrode  again  ;  he  makes 
many  inquiries  concerning  you ;  the  Emperor  of  Russia 
now  resides  on  the  Elysee  Bourbon.  The  count  tells  me 
a  story  that  is  in  circulation  here,  and  has  reference  to 
the  Empress  Marie  Louise  and  the  kings  her  brothers-in- 
law.  They  were  about  to  force  her  to  enter  a  carriage, 
in  which  they  were  to  continue  their  journey  with  her  ; 
when  she  refused  to  enter,  it  is  said  the  King  of  West- 
phalia became  so  violent  that  he  gave  her  a  little  beating. 
She  cried  for  help,  and  General  Caffarelli,*  who  com- 
manded  the  guards,  came  to  her  rescue.  On  the  follow- 
ing day  she  and  her  son  were  made  prisoners,  and  all 

*  According  to  Napoleon's  instructions,  his  brothers  were  to  prevent 
the  empress  and  the  King  of  Rome  from  falling  into  the  hands  of 
the  enemy.  De  Baussue  narrates  this  scene  in  his  memoirs,  and  it 
is  self-evident  that  it  was  not  so  stormy  as  the  gossip  of  Paris  por- 
trayed it. 


THE  QUEEN  AND  LOUISE  DE  COCHELET.        173 

the  crown  diamonds  in  her  possession  seized  by  the  au- 
thorities ;  but  it  seems  as  though  capture  was  precisely 
what  she  wished. 

"  The  Queen  of  Westphalia  has  just  arrived  in  Paris ; 
the  Emperor  Alexander,  her  cousin,  called  on  her  imme- 
diately.    It  is  supposed  that  she  will  return  to  her  father. 

"  Your  brother's  future  is  not  yet  determined  on,  but 
it  will  certainly  be  a  desirable  and  worthy  one.  There 
are  many  intrigues  going  on  in  connection  with  it,  as 
Count  Nesselrode  informs  me.  As  for  the  kingdom  of 
Naples,  it  is  no  longer  spoken  of.  By  the  details  of  the 
last  war  with  us,  narrated  to  me  by  the  count,  I  see  that 
he  despises  many  of  our  ministers  and  marshals,  and  that 
these  must  be  very  culpable;  and  yet  he  tells  me  that 
they  considered  the  result  uncertain  a  week  before  our 
overthrow;  as  late  as  the  10th  of  March  they  believed 
that  peace  had  been  made  with  Prussia  at  least. 

"  Do  not  grieve  over  the  fate  of  the  emperor  on  the 
island  of  Elba.  The  emperor  selected  it  himself;  the 
allies  would  have  preferred  any  other  place. 

"  All  the  mails  arriving  at  Paris  have  been  seized  by 
the  allies.  Among  the  letters  there  was  one  from  the 
Empress  Marie  Louise  to  her  husband.  She  writes  that 
her  son  is  well,  but  that  on  awakening  from  a  good 
night's  rest  he  had  cried  and  told  her  he  had  dreamed 
of  his  father ;  notwithstanding  all  her  coaxing  and  prom- 
ises of  playthings,  he  had,  however,  refused  to  tell  what 
he  had  dreamed  of  his  father,  and  that  this  circumstance 
had  made  her  uneasy  in  spite  of  her  will. 


174:  QUEEN  hortense: 

"Prince  Leopold  resides  in  the  same  house  with 
Countess  Tascher;  he  is  incessantly  busied  with  yours 
and  your  mother's  affairs ;  he  at  least  is  not  oblivious  of 
the  kindness  you  have  both  shown  him.  I  know  that  it 
is  his  intention  to  speak  to  the  Emperor  of  Eussia,  and 
then  write  to  you. 

"  All  your  friends  say  that  you  must  consider  the  in- 
terest of  your  children,  and  accept  the  future  offered 
you.  M.  de  Lavalette  and  the  Duke  of  Yicenza  are  also 
of  this  opinion.  You  lose  enough  without  this,  and  you 
may  well  permit  the  victors  to  return  a  small  portion  of 
that  which  they  have  taken  from  you,  and  which  is  right- 
fully yours. 

"  In  short,  all  your  friends  demand  that  you  shall  re- 
pair to  Malmaison  as  soon  as  the  Emperor  Napoleon 
shall  have  departed  from  Fontainebleau.  I  am  assured 
that  the  Emperor  Alexander  intends  to  hunt  you  up  in 
IS^ovara  if  you  should  not  come  to  Malmaison.  It  will 
therefore  be  impossible  to  avoid  him.  Consider  that  the 
fate  of  your  children  lies  in  his  hands!  In  the  treaty 
of  Fontainebleau  you  and  your  children  were  provided 
for  together ;  this  is  a  great  point  for  you,  and  proves 
how  highly  you  are  thought  of. 

"  It  is  to  the  Emperor  of  Eussia  alone  that  you  owe 
this ;  and  when  the  Duke  of  Yicenza  submitted  this  arti- 
cle of  the  treaty  to  the  Emperor  Kapoleon  for  his  signa- 
ture, it  met  with  his  entire  approval.  Your  sole  and 
undivided  authority  over  your  children  is  thereby  ac- 
knowledged.    You  should,  therefore,  not  reject  the  good 


THE  QUEEN  AND  LOUISE  DE  COCHELET.   175 

offered  you  for  your  children.  I  do  not  think  it  would 
require  much  persuasion  to  induce  others  to  accept  that 
which  is  tendered  you. 

"Madame  Tascher,  who  has  proved  herself  to  be 
your  true  friend  and  relative,  has  just  had  her  first  inter- 
view with  the  Duke  of  Dalberg,  the  member  of  the  pro- 
visional government.  She  spoke  of  you,  and  I  will  here 
give  you  his  response,  word  for  word :  *  She  is  consid- 
ered as  being  altogether  foreign  to  the  Bonaparte  family, 
because  she  has  separated  herself  from  her  husband.  She 
will  be  the  refuge  of  her  children,  who  are  left  to  her. 
She  is  80  dearly  beloved  and  highly  esteemed,  that  she 
can  be  very  happy.  She  can  remain  in  France,  and  do 
whatever  she  pleases ;  but  she  must  now  return  to  Paris.' 
Countess  Tascher  came  to  me  immediately  after  leav- 
ing the  duke,  in  order  to  acquaint  me  with  what  he 
had  said. 

"  Friends  and  foes  alike  say  this  about  yor. :  *  Those 
who  are  not  delighted  with  what  is  being  done  for  the 
queen  are  bad  people  !  And  as  for  her,  what  has  she  to 
regret  in  all  this  ?  Only  the  good  she  has  done  !  Now, 
the  world  will  dare  to  love  her,  and  to  express  their  love ; 
she  has  so  few  wishes,  she  is  so  perfect ! ' 

"  In  short,  it  would  seem  almost  that  the  people  are 
pleased  with  the  misfortune  that  places  you  in  the  right 
light,  and  they  say,  *  She  is  far  more  worthy  in  herself 
than  when  surrounded  by  a  glittering  court ! ' 

"Yesterday  I  saw  the  new  arrivals  from  Fontaine- 
bleau,  M.  de  Lascour  and  M.  de  Lavoestine.    They  came 


176  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

to  me  to  learn  where  you  were  to  be  found,  and  intend 
visiting  you  at  once,  either  at  Novara  or  at  Malmaison, 
as  the  case  may  be.  These  two  gentlemen  are  true 
knights.  '  N'o  matter  what  she  is  to  become,'  said  they ; 
*  we  can  now  show  our  devotion,  without  incurring  the 
risk  of  being  considered  flatterers.' 

"The  last  two  weeks  at  Fontainebleau  have  been  a 
period  of  the  greatest  interest.  All  these  young  men, 
together  with  M.  de  Lab^doyere  and  M.  de  Montesquieu, 
wished  to  accompany  the  emperor  ;  but  he  forbade  their 
doing  so,  and,  in  taking  leave  of  them,  appealed  to  them 
to  remain,  and  to  continue  to  serve  their  country  zeal- 
ously. 

"  Lascour  and  Lavoestine,  together  with  many  other 
officers  of  the  army,  are  much  displeased  with  the  gen- 
erals who  left  Fontainebleau  without  taking  leave  of  the 
emperor. 

"  Upon  taking  leave  of  the  Empress  Josephine,  the 
emperor  is  reported  to  have  said :  '  She  was  right ;  my 
separation  from  her  has  brought  misfortune  upon  my 
head.' 

"  It  is  said  that  the  Duchess  of  Montebello  will  leave 
the  Empress  Marie  Louise." 

But  all  these  entreaties  and  flatteries,  and  these  ap- 
peals to  a  mother's  heart,  were,  as  yet,  powerless  to  break 
the  queen's  pride.  She  still  considered  it  more  worthy 
and  becoming  to  remain  away  from  the  city  in  which  the 
ladies  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  were  celebrating 
the  orgies  of  their  victorious  royalism  with  the  soldiers 


THE  QUEEN  AND  LOUISE  DE  COCHELET.        177 

of  the  allied  armies.  Instead  of  yielding  to  Louise  de 
Cochelet's  entreaties,  the  queen  wrote  her  the  following 
letter : 

"My  dear  Louise, — My  resolution  gives  you  pain  I 
You  all  accuse  me  of  childish  waywardness.  You  are 
unjust !  My  mother  can  follow  the  Duke  de  Yicenza's 
counsel ;  she  will  go  to  Malmaison,  but  /  remain  here^ 
and  I  have  good  reasons  for  doing  so.  I  cannot  separate 
my  interests  from  those  of  my  children.  It  is  they,  it  is 
their  nearest  relatives,  who  are  being  sacrificed  by  all 
that  is  taking  place,  and  I  am,  therefore,  determined  not 
to  approach  those  who  are  working  our  ruin.  I  must  be 
saddened  by  our  great  misfortune,  and  I  will  appear 
60,  and  abstain  from  approaching  those  who  would  still 
consider  me  a  supplicant,  even  though  I  should  demand 
nothing  of  them. 

"  I  can  readily  believe  that  the  Emperor  Alexander  is 
kindly  disposed  toward  me  ;  I  have  heard  much  good  of 
him,  even  from  the  Emperor  Napoleon.  Although  I  was 
once  anxious  to  make  his  acquaintance,  I  at  this  moment 
have  no  desire  to  see  him.  Is  he  not  our  vanquisher ! 
In  their  hearts,  your  friends  must  all  approve  of  my  de- 
termination, whatever  they  may  say.  I  find  retirement 
congenial.  When  you  have  seen  enough  of  your  friends, 
you  will  return  to  me.  I  am  suffering  in  my  breast,  and 
shall  perhaps  go  to  some  watering-place.  I  do  not  know 
whether  it  is  due  to  the  air  of  Novara,  but  since  I  have 
been  here  I  cannot  breathe.     My  friends  maintain  that 


178  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

it  is  due  to  the  mental  shocks  resulting  from  the  great 
events  that  have  transpired ;  but  they  are  in  error ;  death 
has  spared  us  all,  and  the  loss  of  a  glittering  position  is 
not  the  greatest  loss  one  can  sustain.  "What  personal  hap- 
piness do  I  lose  ?  My  brother  will,  I  trust,  be  well  and 
suitably  provided  for,  and  he  will  be  no  longer  exposed 
to  danger.  He  must  be  very  uneasy  on  our  account,  and 
yet  I  dare  not  write  to  him,  as  my  letters  would  probably 
never  reach  him  ;  if  an  opportunity  should  present  itself, 
please  let  him  know  that  we  are  no  longer  surrounded  by 
dangers.  Adieu.  I  entreat  you  once  more  to  undertake 
nothing  in  my  behalf.  I  fear  your  impetuosity  and 
friendship,  and  yet  I  love  to  be  able  to  count  on  you. 
My  children  are  well.  My  mother  opposes  all  my  plans  ; 
she  asserts  that  she  has  need  of  me ;  but  I  shall,  never- 
theless, go  to  her  who  must  now  be  more  unhappy  than 

all  of  us.  HORTENSK." 

She  of  whom  Hortense  thought  that  she  must  be 
more  unhappy  than  all  of  them,  was  the  wife  of  I^apo- 
leon,  Marie  Louise,  who  had  now  left  Blois,  to  which 
place  she  had  gone  as  empress-regent,  and  repaired  to 
Rambouillet,  to  await  the  decision  of  the  allies  with  re- 
gard to  the  future  of  herself  and  son.  It  was  certainly 
one  of  the  most  peculiar  features  of  this  period,  so  rich 
in  extraordinary  occurrences,  to  see  the  sovereigns  of 
Europe,  the  overthrown  rulers  of  France,  and  those  w^ho 
were  about  to  grasp  the  sceptre  once  more,  thrown  con- 
fusedly together  in  Paris,  and  within  a  circuit  of  some 


THE  QUEEN  AND  LOUISE  DE  COCHELET.   179 

fifty  miles  around  that  citj  :  a  Bourbon  in  the  Tuileries, 
Bonaparte  at  Fontainebleau,  his  wife  and  his  son  at  Ram- 
bouillet,  the  divorced  empress  at  Novara,  the  Emperors 
of  Russia  and  Austria,  and  the  King  of  Prussia,  at  Paris ; 
moreover,  a  whole  train  of  little  German  potentates  and 
princes,  and  the  Napoleonic  kings  and  princes,  who  were 
all  sojourning  in  Paris  or  its  vicinity. 

The  Queen  of  Holland  considered  it  her  duty,  in  these 
days  of  misfortune  and  danger,  to  stand  at  the  side  of  her 
whom  Napoleon  had  commanded  them  to  consider  the 
head  of  the  family,  and  to  serve  faithfully  in  life  and 
death.  Hortense  therefore  determined  to  go  to  the  Em- 
press Marie  Louise  at  Rambouillet,  in  accordance  with 
the  emperor's  commands. 

This  determination  filled  the  hearts  of  the  queen's 
friends  with  sorrow  ;  and  Louise  had  no  sooner  received 
the  letter  in  which  the  queen  announced  her  impending 
departure,  than  she  hastened  to  reply,  imploring  her  to 
abandon  this  intention.  M.  de  Marmold,  the  queen's 
equerry,  departed  with  all  speed  to  bring  this  letter  to 
the  queen  at  Louis,  where  she  was  to  pass  the  night,  and 
to  add  his  entreaties  to  those  of  Louise. 

"  M.  de  Marmold,  the  bearer  of  this  letter,  will  deliver 
it  to  you  at  Louis,  if  he  arrives  there  in  good  time,"  wrote 
Louise  de  Cochelet.  "  If  you  go  to  Rambouillet,  you  will 
destroy  your  own  position,  and  also  that  of  your  children; 
this  is  the  conviction  of  all  your  friends.  I  was  so  happy, 
for  Prince  Leopold  had  written  you,  in  the  name  of  the 
Emperor  Alexander,  and  begged  you  to  come  to  Mai- 


180  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

maison.  You  could  not  have  avoided  seeing  him,  as  he 
would  even  have  gone  to  IN'ovara.  Instead,  however,  of 
returning  with  the  Empress  Josephine,  you  are  on  the 
point  of  uniting  yourself  with  a  family  that  has  never 
loved  you.  "With  them  you  will  experience  nothing  but 
distress,  and  they  will  not  be  thankful  for  the  sacrifice 
you  are  about  to  make.  You  will  regret  this  step  when 
it  is  too  late.     I  conjure  you,  do  not  go  to  E-ambouillet ! 

"  Your  course  will  touch  those  to  whom  you  are  going 
but  little,  and  will  displease  the  allies,  who  take  so  much 
interest  in  you. 

"  The  empress  is  a  thorough  Austrian  at  heart,  and 
the  visits  of  members  of  her  husband's  family  are  regard- 
ed with  disfavor.  I  tell  you  this  at  the  request  of  Prince 
Leopold  and  Madame  de  Caulaincourt.  The  latter,  if  you 
do  not  come  here  soon,  vrill  go  to  you,  in  spite  of  her 
great  age.  She  conjures  you  not  to  go  to  Rambouillet,  as 
your  lady  of  honor,  and  the  friend  of  your  mother ;  she 
even  forbids  your  doing  so. 

"  When  I  informed  Prince  Leopold  of  your  intention 
to  go  to  the  Empress  Marie  Louise  at  Pambouillet,  his 
eyes  filled  with  tears.  *  It  is  beautiful  to  be  proud,'  said 
he,  '  but  she  can  no  longer  retreat ;  she  is  already  under 
obligations  to  the  Emperor  of  Russia,  who  effected  the 
treaty  of  the  11th  of  April.  I  await  her  reply,  to  deliver 
it  to  the  emperor  :  she  owes  him  a  reply.' 

"  I  passed  an  hour  with  our  good  friend  Lavalette 
this  morning.  This  excellent  man  knew  nothing  of  the 
measures  we  have  been  taking  to  persuade  you  to  return, 


THE  QUEEN  AND  LOUISE  DE  COCHELET.        181 

aud  said  to  me  :  *  How  fortunate  it  would  be  for  her  and 
her  children,  if  the  emperor  should  desire  to  see  her ! ' 
Do  come,  do  come ;  show  your  friends  this  favor ;  we 
shall  all  be  in  despair  if  you  go  to  Rambouillet ! 

"  Prince  Leopold  will  write  you  a  few  lines.  He 
could  not  be  more  devoted  to  yourself  and  the  Empress 
Josephine  if  you  were  his  mother  and  his  sister.  Count 
Tschernitscheff  has  been  to  see  me.  The  Emperor  of 
Austria  arrives  here  to-morrow,  and  the  new  French 
princes  and  the  king  will  soon  follow.     What  a  change  ! 

"  You  must  see  the  Emperor  of  Kussia,  because  he  so 
much  desires  it.  I  conjure  you,  on  my  knees,  to  do  me 
this  favor  I  The  emperor  conducts  himself  so  hand- 
somely that  every  one  is  constrained  to  respect  him  ;  one 
forgets  that  he  is  the  conqueror,  and  can  only  remember 
him  as  the  protector.  He  seems  to  be  the  refuge  of  all 
those  who  have  lost  all,  and  are  in  distress.  His  conduct 
is  admirable ;  he  receives  none  but  business  calls,  and 
such  others  as  are  absolutely  necessary.  The  fair  ladies 
of  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  cannot  boast  of  his  atten- 
tion to  them,  and  this  does  him  all  the  more  credit,  he 
being,  as  it  is  said,  very  susceptible  to  the  fair  sex.  He 
told  Prince  Leopold  that  he  intended  going  to  Novara, 
adding  :  *  You  know  that  I  love  and  esteem  this  family  ; 
Prince  Eugene  is  the  prince  of  knights ;  I  esteem  the  Em- 
press Josephine,  Queen  Hortense,  and  Prince  Eugene,  all 
the  more  from  the  fact  that  her  demeanor  toward  the 
Emperor  Napoleon  has  been  so  much  more  noble  than 
that  of  BO  many  others,  who  should  have  shown  him 


182  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

more  devotion.'  How  could  it  be  possible  not  to  respect 
a  man  of  such  nobility  of  character  ?  I  trust  you  will 
soon  have  an  opportunity  of  judging  of  this  yourself. 
For  God's  sake,  return  !  Louise." 

But  these  entreaties  were  all  in  vain.  M.  de  Mar- 
mold  arrived  at  Louis  in  time  to  see  the  queen ;  he  de- 
livered the  letters  of  her  friends,  and  did  all  that  lay  in 
his  power  to  persuade  her  not  to  go  to  Rambouillet. 

But  Hortense  held  firmly  to  her  intention.  "  You 
are  right,"  said  she.  "  All  this  is  true ;  but  I  shall,  nev- 
ertheless, go  to  the  Empress  Marie  Louise,  for  it  is  my 
duty  to  do  so.  If  unpleasant  consequences  should  result 
from  this  step  for  me,  I  shall  pay  no  attention  to  them, 
but  merely  continue  to  do  my  duty.  Of  all  of  us,  the 
Empress  Marie  Louise  must  be  the  most  unhappy,  and 
must  stand  most  in  need  of  consolation ;  it  is,  therefore, 
at  her  side  that  I  can  be  of  most  use,  and  nothing  can 
alter  my  determination." 


CHAPTEK  XY. 

QUEEN    HORTENSE   AND    THE    EMPEROR   ALEXANDER. 

Queen  Hortense  had  gone  to  Kambouillet,  in  spite 
of  the  entreaties  and  exhortations  of  her  friends.  The 
Empress  Marie  Louise  had,  however,  received  her  with 
an  air  of  embarrassment.  -She  had  told  the  queen  that 
she  was  expecting  her  father,  the  Emperor  of  Austria, 


General  Bonaparte  repr 
the  revolt  of  the  Sectf 

From  a  paintioK  by  AgujUe  ka 


'■'^f  not  to  re^pf> 


M,  de  Mar- 
ket" the  queer 

>nd  did  a]]  tliat  Liy  m 
to  Kambouilltit. 
■  .r  intention.      ' 

but  I  fc 
Louise, 

^,  ^m  W  «tto»^ioilJ  to  tiieiu . 

most  unhappy,  ^it  ' 
eonsoiatioT) ;  it  ' 

use,  and  nuOiiu^  luxx 


XY. 

>  '^N  IToTrnr:^^-.^  Imd  goae  to  Kambouillet.  5*^      :  ^-^ 

\A  exliorta^ong  o(f  lier  I 
.  Marie  Louise  bad,  liowev^r,  r©e«iyis!  her  with 
rras^ment   -She  1  the  queen  that 

ag  her  fatL<  ror  of  Austria, 


<iUEEN  HORTENSE  AND  EMPEROR  ALEXANDER.   183 

■and  that  she  feared  the  queen's  presence  might  make  him 
feel  ill  at  ease.  Moreover,  the  yomig  empress,  although 
dejected  and  grave,  was  by  no  means  so  sorrowful  and 
miserable  as  Hortense  expected.  The  fate  of  her  hus- 
band had  not  wounded  the  heart  of  Marie  Louise  as 
deeply  as  that  of  the  Empress  Josephine. 

Hortense  felt  that  she  was  not  needed  there ;  that  the 
presence  of  the  Emperor  of  Austria  would  suffice  to 
console  the  Empress  of  France  for  her  husband's  over- 
throw. She  thought  of  Josephine,  who  was  so  deeply 
«addened  by  Napoleon's  fate ;  and  finding  that,  instead 
of  consoling,  she  only  embarrassed  the  Empress  Marie 
Louise,  she  hastened  to  relieve  her  of  her  presence. 

And  now,  at  last,  Hortense  bowed  her  proud,  pure 
heart  beneath  the  yoke  of  necessity;  now,  at  last,  she 
listened  to  the  prayers  and  representations  of  her  mother, 
who  had  returned  to  Malmaison,  and  of  her  friends,  and 
went  to  Paris.  It  had  bfeen  too  often  urged  upon  her 
that  she  owed  it  to  her  sons  to  secure  their  fortune  and 
future,  not  to  overcome  her  personal  repugnance,  and 
<5onform  herself  to  this  new  command  of  duty. 

She  had,  therefore,  returned  to  Paris  for  a  few  days, 
and  taken  up  her  abode  in  her  dwelling,  whose  present 
dreariness  recalled,  with  sorrowful  eloquence,  the  grand- 
eur of  the  past. 

These  drawing-rooms,  once  the  rendezvous  of  so  many 
kings  and  princes,  were  now  desolate,  and  bore  on  their 
soiled  floors  the  footprints  of  the  hostile  soldiers  who 
had  recently  been  quartered  there.     At  the  czar's  solici- 


184:  QUEEN   HORTENSE. 

tation,  thej  had  now  been  removed;  but  the  queen's 
household  servants  had  also  left  it.  Faithless  and  un- 
grateful, they  had  turned  their  backs  on  the  setting  sun, 
and  fled  from  the  storm  that  had  burst  over  the  head  of 
their  mistress. 

The  Emperor  Alexander  hastened  to  the  queen's 
dwelling  as  soon  as  her  arrival  in  Paris  was  announced, 
the  queen  advancing  to  meet  him  as  far  as  the  outermost 
antechamber. 

"  Sire,"  said  she,  with  a  soft  smile,  "  I  have  no  means 
of  receiving  you  with  due  ceremony ;  my  antechambers 
are  deserted." 

The  appearance  of  this  solitary  woman,  this  queen 
without  a  crown,  without  fortune,  and  without  protection 
and  support,  who  nevertheless  stood  before  him  in  all  the 
charms  of  beauty  and  womanhood,  a  soft  smile  on  her 
lips,  made  a  deep  impression  on  the  emperor,  and  his 
eyes  filled  with  tears. 

The  queen  observed  this,  and  hastened  to  say,  "  But 
what  of  that  ?  I  do  not  think  that  antechambers  filled 
with  gold-embroidered  liveries  would  make  those  who 
come  to  see  me  happier,  and  I  esteem  myself  happy  in 
being  able  to  do  you  the  honors  of  my  house  alone.  I 
have,  therefore,  only  won." 

The  emperor  took  her  hand,  and,  while  conducting 
the  queen  to  her  room,  conversed  with  her,  with  that 
soft,  sad  expression  peculiar  to  him,  lamenting  with  bit- 
ter self-reproaches  almost  that  he  was  himself,  in  part,  to 
blame  for  the  misfortunes  that  had  overtaken  the  em- 


QUEEN  HORTENSE  AND  EMPEROR  ALEXANDER.   185 

peror  and  his  family.  He  then  conjured  her  to  abandon 
her  intenti  >n  of  leaving  France,  and  to  preserve  herself 
for  her  mother  and  friends.  He  told  her  that,  in  aban- 
doning her  country,  her  friends,  and  her  rights,  she 
would  be  guilty  of  a  crime  against  her  own  children, 
against  her  two  sons,  who  were  entitled  to  demand  a 
country  and  a  fortune  at  her  hands. 

The  queen,  overcome  at  last  by  these  earnest  and 
eloquent  representations,  declared  her  readiness  to  re- 
main in  France,  if  the  welfare  of  her  sons  should 
require  it. 

"  Until  now,"  said  she,  "  I  had  formed  all  my  reso- 
lutions witli  reference  to  misfortune.  I  was  entirely  re- 
fiigned,  and  I  never  thought  of  the  possibility  of  any 
thing  fortunate  happening  for  me ;  and  even  yet,  I  do 
not  know  what  I  can  desire  and  demand.  I  am,  how- 
ever, determined  to  accept  nothing  for  myself  and  chil- 
dren that  would  be  unworthy  of  us,  and  I  do  not  know 
what  that  could  be." 

With  an  assuring  smile,  the  emperor  extended  his 
hand  to  the  queen.  "  Leave  that  to  me,"  said  he.  "  It 
is,  then,  understood,  you  are  to  remain  in  France  ? " 

"  Sire,  you  have  convinced  me  that  the  future  of  my 
sons  requires  it.     I  shall  therefore  remain." 


18 


186  QUEEN  HORTENSK 

CHAPTEK  XYL 

THE   NEW    UNCLES. 

Malmaison,  to  which  place  Hortense  had  returned 
after  a  short  stay  in  Paris,  and  where  the  Empress  Jose- 
phine was  also  sojourning,  was  a  kind  of  focus  for  social 
amusement  and  relaxation  for  the  sovereigns  assembled 
in  Paris.  Each  of  these  kings  and  princes  wished  to 
pay  his  homage  to  the  Empress  Josephine  and  her 
daughter,  and  thereby,  in  a  measure,  show  the  last  hon- 
ors to  the  dethroned  emperor. 

On  one  occasion,  when  the  King  of  Prussia,  with  hi& 
two  sons.  Prince  Frederick  William  (the  late  king)  and 
William,  had  come  to  Malmaison,  and  announced  their 
desire  to  call  on  the  empress,  she  sent  them  an  invitation 
to  a  family  dinner,  at  which  she  also  invited  the  Em- 
peror of  Kussia  and  his  two  brothers  to  attend. 

The  emperor  accepted  this  invitation,  and  on  enter- 
ing, with  the  young  archdukes,  the  parlor  in  which  the 
Duchess  de  St.  Leu  was  sitting,  he  took  his  two  brothers 
by  the  hand  and  conducted  them  to  Hortense. 

"  Madame,"  said  he,  "  I  confide  my  brothers  to  your 
keeping.  They  are  now  making  their  debut  in  society. 
My  mother  fears  their  heads  may  be  turned  by  the  beau- 
ties of  France;  and  in  bringing  them  to  Malmaison,. 
where  so  many  charming  persons  are  assembled,  I  am 
certainly  fulfilling  my  promise  to  preserve  them  from 
such  a  fate  but  poorly." 


THE  NEW  UNCLESw  187 

"  Reassure  yourself,  sire,"  replied  the  queen,  gravely ; 
"  I  will  be  their  mentor,  and  I  promise  you  a  motherly 
surveillance." 

The  emperor  laughed,  and,  pointing  to  Hortense's 
two  sons,  who  had  just  been  brought  in^  he  said  :  "  Ah, 
madame,  it  would  be  much  less  dangerous  for  my  broth- 
ers if  they  were  of  the  age  of  these  boys." 

He  approached  the  two  boys  with  extended  hands, 
and  while  conversing  with  them  in  a  kindly  and  affec- 
tionate manner,  addressed  them  with  the  titles  "mon- 
seigneur  "  and  "  imperial  highness." 

The  children  regarded  him  wonderingly,  for  the  Rus- 
sian emperor  was  the  first  to  address  the  little  Napoleon 
and  his  younger  brother,  Louis  Napoleon,  with  these  im- 
posing titles.  The  queen  had  never  allowed  them  to  be 
called  by  any  but  their  own  names.  She  wished  to  pre- 
flerve  them  from  vain  pride,  and  teach  them  to  depend 
on  their  own  intrinsic  merit. 

Shortly  afterward  the  King  of  Prussia  and  his  sona 
were  announced,  and  the  emperor  and  his  brothers  left 
the  young  princes,  and  advanced  to  meet  the  king. 

While  the  emperor  and  the  king  were  exchanging 
salutations,  Hortense's  two  sons  inquired  of  their  gov- 
erness the  names  of  the  gentlemen  who  had  just  entered. 

"  It  is  the  King  of  Prussia,"  whispered  the  govern- 
ess ;  "  and  the-  gentleman  who  has  just  spoken  with  you 
is  the  Emperor  of  Russia." 

The  little  Louis  Napoleon  regarded  the  tall  figures- 
of  these  princes  thoughtfully  for  a  Bftoment,  by  no  mean* 


188  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

impressed  by  their  imposing  titles.  He  was  so  accus- 
tomed to  see  his  mother  surrounded  by  kings,  and  these 
kings  had  always  been  his  uncles. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  the  little  Louis  Napoleon,  after 
a  short  pause,  "are  these  two  new  gentlemen,  the  em- 
peror and  the  king,  also  our  uncles,  like  all  the  others, 
and  must  we  call  them  so  ? " 

"  No,  Louis,  you  must  simply  call  them  '  sire.'  " 

''But,"  said  the  boy,  after  a  moment's  reflection, 
"  why  is  it  that  they  are  not  our  uncles  ? " 

The  governess  withdrew  with  the  two  children  to  the 
back  of  the  parlor,  and  explained  to  them,  in  a  low  voice, 
that  the  emperors  and  kings  then  in  Paris,  far  from 
being  their  uncles,  were  their  vanquishers. 

"  Then,"  exclaimed  the  elder  boy,  Napoleon  Louis,  his 
face  flushing  with  anger,  "then  they  are  the  enemies 
of  my  uncle,  the  emperor !  Why  did  this  Emperor  of 
Russia  embrace  us  ? " 

"  Because  he  is  a  noble  and  generous  enemy,  who  is 
endeavoring  to  serve  you  and  your  mother  in  your  pres- 
ent misfortune.  Without  him  you  would  possess  nothing 
more  in  the  world,  and  the  fate  of  your  uncle,  the  em- 
peror, would  be  much  sadder  than  it  already  is." 

"  Then  we  ought  to  love  this  emperor  very  dearly  ? " 
said  the  little  Louis  Napoleon. 

"  Certainly  ;  for  you  owe  him  many  thanks." 

The  young  prince  regarded  the  emperor,  who  was 
conversing  with  the  empress  Josephine,  long  and 
thoughtfully. 


DEATH  OP  THE  EMPRESS  JOSEPHINE.  189 

When  the  emperor  returned  to  Malmaison  on  the 
following  day,  and  while  he  was  sitting  at  his  mother's 
side  in  the  garden-house,  little  Louis  Napoleon,  walking 
on  tiptoe,  noiselessly  approached  the  emperor  from  be- 
hind, laid  a  small  glittering  object  in  his  hand,  and  ran 
away. 

The  queen  called  him  back,  and  demanded  with  ear- 
nest severity  to  know  what  he  had  done. 

The  little  prince  returned  reluctantly,  hanging  his 
head  with  embarrassment,  and  said,  blushing  deeply: 
"  Ah,  mamcm,  it  is  the  ring  Uncle  Eugene  gave  me.  I 
wished  to  give  it  to  the  emperor,  because  he  is  so  good  to 
my  mwman  !  " 

Deeply  touched,  the  emperor  took  the  boy  in  his 
arms,  seated  him  on  his  knees,  and  kissed  him  tenderly. 

Then,  in  order  to  give  the  little  prince  an  immediate 
reward,  he  attached  the  ring  to  his  watch-chain,  and 
swore  that  he  would  wear  the  token  as  long  as  he  lived.* 


CHAPTER  xyn. 

DEATH  OF  THE  EMFBE88  JOSEPHINE. 

Since  Napoleon's  star  had  grown  pale,  and  himself 
compelled  to  leave  France  as  an  exile,  life  seemed  to  Jo- 
sephine also  to  be  enveloped  in  a  gloomy  mourning-veil ; 
she  felt  that  her  sun  had  set,  and  night  come  upon  her. 

*  Cochelet,  vol  I,  p.  805. 


190  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

But  she  kept  this  feeling  a  profound  secret,  and  never 
allowed  a  complaint  or  sigh  to  betray  her  grief  to  her 
tenderly-beloved  daughter.  Her  complaints  were  for  the 
emperor,  her  sighs  for  the  fate  of  her  children  and 
grandchildren.  She  seemed  to  have  forgotten  herself; 
her  wishes  were  all  for  others.  With  the  pleasing  ad- 
dress and  grace  of  which  age  could  not  deprive  her,  she 
did  the  honors  of  her  house  to  the  foreign  sovereigns  in 
Malmaison,  and  assumed  a  forced  composure,  in  which 
her  soul  had  no  share.  She  would  have  preferred  to 
withdraw  with  her  grief  to  the  retirement  of  her  cham- 
bers, but  she  thought  it  her  duty  to  make  this  sacrifice 
for  the  welfare  of  her  daughter  and  grandchildren ;  and 
she,  the  loving  mother,  could  do  what  Hortense's  pride 
would  not  permit — she  could  entreat  the  Emperor  Alex- 
ander to  take  pity  on  her  daughter's  fate. 

When,  therefore,  the  czar  had  finally  succeeded  iu 
establishing  her  future,  and  had  received  the  letters-pat- 
ent which  secured  to  the  queen  the  duchy  of  St.  Leu^ 
Alexander  hastened  to  Malmaison,  to  communicate  this 
good  news  to  the  Empress  Josephine. 

She  did  not  reward  him  with  words,  but  with  gush- 
ing tears,  as  she  extended  to  the  emperor  both  hands. 
She  then  begged  him,  with  touching  earnestness,  to  ac- 
cept from  her  a  remembrance  of  this  hour. 

The  emperor  pointed  to  a  cup,  on  which  a  portrait  of 
Josephine  was  painted,  and  begged  her  to  give  him  that. 

"  'No,  sire,"  said  she ;  "  such  a  cup  can  be  bought 
anywhere.     But  I  wish  to  give  you  something  that  can- 


DEATH  OF  THE  EMPRESS  JOSEPHINE.  191 

not  be  had  anywhere  else  in  the  world,  and  that  will 
sometimes  remind  you  of  me.  It  is  a  present  that  I 
received  from  Pope  Pius  YII.,  on  the  day  of  my  coro- 
nation. I  present  you  with  this  token  in  commemora- 
tion of  the  day  on  which  you  bring  my  daughter  the 
ducal  crown,  in  order  that  it  may  remind  you  of  mother 
and  daughter  alike — of  the  dethroned  empress  and  of 
the  dethroned  queen." 

This  present,  which  she  now  extended  to  the  em- 
peror with  a  charming  smile,  was  an  antique  cameo,  of 
immense  size,  and  so  wondrously-well  executed  that  the 
empress  could  well  say  its  equal  was  nowhere  to  be 
found  in  the  world.  On  this  cameo  the  heads  of  Alex- 
ander the  Great  and  of  his  father,  Philip  of  Macedonia, 
were  portrayed,  side  by  side;  and  the  beauty  of  the 
workmanship,  as  well  as  the  size  of  the  stone,  made  this 
cameo  a  gem  of  inestimable  value.  And  for  this  reason 
the  emperor  at  first  refused  to  accept  this  truly  imperial 
present,  and  he  yielded  only  when  he  perceived  that  his 
refusal  would  offend  the  empress,  who  seemed  to  be 
more  pale  and  irritable  than  usual. 

Josephine  was,  in  reality,  sadder  than  usual,  for  the 
royal  family  of  the  Bourbons  had  on  this  day  caused  her 
heart  to  bleed  anew.  Josephine  had  read  an  article  in 
the  journals,  in  which,  in  the  most  contemptuous  and 
cruel  terms,  attention  was  called  to  the  fact  that  the  eld- 
est son  of  the  Queen  of  Holland  had  been  interred  in  the 
Cathedral  of  Notre-Dame,  and  that  the  Minister  Blacas 
had  now  issued  an  order  to  have  the  coffin  removed 


192  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

from  its  resting-place,  and  buried  in  an  ordinary  grave- 
yard. 

Hortense,  who  had  read  this  article,  had  hastened  to 
Paris,  in  order  that  she  might  herself  superintend  the 
removal  of  the  body  of  her  beloved  child  from  I^otre- 
Dame,  and  its  reinterment  in  the  Church  of  St.  Leu. 

While  she  informed  the  emperor  of  this  new  insult, 
Josephine's  whole  figure  trembled,  and  a  deathly  pal- 
lor overspread  her  countenance.  Josephine  lacked  the 
strength  to  conceal  her  sufferings  to-day,  for  the  first 
time ;  Hortense  was  not  present,  and  she  might  there- 
fore, for  once,  allow  herself  the  sad  consolation  of  show- 
ing, bereft  of  its  smile  and  its  paint,  the  pale  counte- 
nance, which  death  had  already  lightly  touched. 

"  Your  majesty  is  ill ! "  exclaimed  the  emperor,  in 
dismay. 

"With  a  smile,  which  brought  tears  to  Alexander's 
eyes,  Josephine  pointed  to  her  breast,  and  whispered: 
"  Sire,  I  have  received  the  death- wound  here !  " 

Yes,  she  was  right ;  she  had  received  a  fatal  wound, 
and  her  heart  was  bleeding  to  death. 

Terrified  by  Josephine's  condition,  the  emperor  hur- 
ried to  Paris,  and  sent  his  own  |Aiysician  to  inquire  after 
her  condition.  When  the  latter  returned,  he  informed 
the  emperor  that  Josephine  was  dangerously  ill,  and  that 
be  did  not  believe  her  recovery  possible. 

He  was  right,  and  Alexander  saw  the  empress  no 
more !  Hortense  and  Eugene,  her  two  children,  held  a 
sad  watch  at  their  mother's  bedside  throughout  the  night. 


DEATH  OP  THE  EMPRESS  JOSEPHINE.  193 

The  best  physicians  were  called  in,  but  these  only  con- 
firmed what  the  Kussian  physician  had  said — the  con- 
dition of  the  empress  was  hopeless.  Her  heart  was 
broken !  With  strong  hands,  she  had  held  it  together  as 
long  as  her  children's  welfare  seemed  to  require.  Now 
that  Hortense's  future  was  also  assured — now  that  she 
knew  that  her  grandchildren  would,  at  least,  not  be  com- 
pelled to  wander  about  the  world  as  exiled  beggars — now 
Josephine  withdrew  her  hands  from  her  heart,  and  suf- 
fered it  to  bleed  to  death. 

On  the  29th  of  May,  1814,  the  Empress  Josephine 
died,  of  an  illness  which  had  apparently  lasted  but  two 
days.  Hortense  had  not  heard  her  mother's  death-sigh ; 
when  she  re-entered  the  room  with  Eugene,  after  her 
mother  had  received  the  sacrament  from  Abbe  Bertrand 
— when  she  saw  her  mother,  with  outstretched  arms, 
vainly  endeavoring  to  speak  to  them — Hortense  fainted 
away  at  her  mother's  bedside,  and  the  empress  breathed 
her  last  sigh  in  Eugene's  arms. 

The  intelligence  of  the  death  of  the  empress  affected 
Paris  profoundly.  It  seemed  as  though  all  the  city  had 
forgotten  for  a  day  that  Napoleon  was  no  longer  the 
ruler  of  France,  and  that  the  Bourbons  had  reascended 
the  throne  of  their  fathers.  All  Paris  mourned ;  for  the 
hearts  of  the  French  people  had  not  forgotten  this 
woman,  who  had  so  long  been  their  benefactress,  and  of 
whom  each  could  relate  tlie  most  touching  traits  of  good- 
ness, of  generosity,  and  of  gentleness. 

Josephine,  now  that  she  was  dead,  was  once  more  en- 


194  QUEP]N  HORTENSE. 

throned  as  empress  in  tlie  hearts  of  the  French  people, 
and  thousands  poured  into  Malmaison,  to  pay  their  last 
homage  to  their  deceased  empress.  Even  the  Faubourg 
St.  Germain  mourned  with  the  Parisians ;  these  haughty 
and  insolent  royalists,  who  had  returned  with  the  Bour- 
bons, may,  perhaps,  for  a  moment,  have  recalled  the 
benefits  which  the  empress  had  shown  them,  when,  as 
the  mighty  Empress  of  France,  she  employed  the  half  of 
her  allowance  for  the  relief  of  the  emigrants.  They  had 
returned  without  thinking  of  the  thanks  they  owed  their 
forgotten  benefactress ;  now  that  she  was  dead,  they  no 
longer  withheld  the  tribute  of  their  admiration. 

"  Alas ! "  exclaimed  Madame  Ducayla,  the  king's 
friend ;  "  alas !  how  interesting  a  lady  was  this  Jose- 
phine !  What  tact,  what  goodness  !  How  well  she  knew 
how  to  do  everything !  And  she  shows  her  tact  and 
good  taste  to  the  last,  in  dying  just  at  this  moment !  " 

Immediately  after  the  death  of  the  empress,  Eugene 
had  conducted  the  queen  from  the  death-chamber,  almost 
violently,  and  had  taken  her  and  her  children  to  St.  Leu. 
The  body  of  the  empress  was  interred  in  Malmaison,  and 
followed  to  the  grave  by  her  two  grandchildren  only. 
Grief  had  made  both  of  her  children  severely  ill,  and 
the  little  princes  were  followed,  not  by  her  relatives,  but 
by  the  Russian  General  Yon  Sacken,  who  represented 
the  emperor,  and  by  the  equipages  of  all  those  kings  and 
princes  who  had  helped  to  hurl  the  Bonapartes  from 
their  thrones  and  restore  the  Bourbons. 

The  emperor  passed  his  last  night  in  France,  before 


DEATH  OP  THE  EMPRESS  JOSEPHINE.  195 

leaving  for  England,  at  St.  Leu  ;  and,  on  taking  leave  of 
Eugene  and  Hortense,  who,  at  the  earnest  solicitation  of 
her  brother,  had  left  her  room  for  the  first  time  since  her 
mother's  death,  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  the  emperor,  he 
assured  them  of  his  unchangeable  friendship  and  attach- 
ment. As  he  knew  that,  among  those  whom  he  strongly 
suspected,  Pozzo  di  Borgo,*  the  ambassador  he  left  be- 
hind him  in  Paris,  was  an  irreconcilable  enemy  of  Napo- 
leon and  his  family,  he  had  assigned  to  duty  at  the  em- 
bassy as  attache,  a  gentleman  selected  for  this  purpose 
by  Louise  de  Cochelet — M.  de  Boutiakin — and  it  was 
through  him  that  the  emperor  directed  that  the  letters 
and  wishes  of  the  queen  and  of  her  faithful  young  lady 
friend  should  be  received  and  answered. 

A  few  days  later  Eugene  also  left  St.  Leu  and  his 
fiifiter  Hortense,  to  return,  with  the  King  of  Bavaria,  to 
his  new  home  in  Germany.  It  was  not  until  his  depart- 
ure that  Hortense  felt  to  its  full  extent  the  gloomy  lone- 
liness and  dreary  solitude  by  which  she  was  surrounded. 
She  had  not  wept  over  the  downfall  of  all  the  grandeur 
and  magnificence  by  which  she  had  formerly  been  sur- 
rounded ;  she  had  not  complained  when  the  whirlwind 
of  fate  hurled  to  the  ground  the  crowns  of  all  her  rela- 
tions, but  had  bowed  her  head  to  the  storm  with  resigna- 
tion, and  smiled  at  the  loss  of  her  royal  titles  ;  but  now, 
as  she  stood  in  her  parlor  at  St.  Leu  and  saw  none  about 

*  Upon  receiving  the  intelligence  of  the  death  of  the  emperor  at 
St  Helena,  Pozzo  di  Borgo  said  :  "  I  did  not  kill  him,  but  I  threw  the 
last  handful  of  earth  on  his  coffin,  in  order  that  he  might  never  riao 
again." 


196  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

her  but  her  two  little  boys  and  the  few  ladies  who  still 
remained  faithful — now,  Hortense  wept. 

"  Alas ! "  she  cried,  bursting  into  tears,  as  she  extended 
her  hand  to  Louise  de  Cochelet,  "  alas  !  my  courage  is  at 
an  end  !  My  mother  is  dead,  my  brother  has  left  me,  the 
Emperor  Alexander  will  soon  forget  his  promised  protec- 
tion, and  I  alone  must  contend,  with  my  two  children, 
against  all  the  annoyances  and  enmities  to  which  the 
name  I  bear  will  subject  me  !  I  fear  I  shall  live  to  re- 
gret that  I  allowed  myself  to  be  persuaded  to  abandon 
my  former  plan.  Will  the  love  I  bear  my  country 
recompense  me  for  the  torments  which  are  in  store 
for  me  ? " 

The  queen's  dark  forebodings  were  to  be  only  too 
fully  realized.  In  the  great  and  solemn  hour  of  misfor- 
tune. Fate  lifts  to  mortal  vision  the  veil  that  conceals  the 
future,  and,  like  the  Trojan  prophetess,  we  see  the  im- 
pending evil,  powerless  to  avert  it. 


BOOK  nx 

THE  RESTORATION. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  BETUBN  OF  THE  B0UKB0N8. 

On  the  12th  of  April,  Count  d'Artois,  whom  Louis 
XVni.  had  sent  in  advance,  and  invested  with  the  dig- 
nity of  a  lieutenant-general  of  France,  made  his  tri- 
umphal entry  into  Paris.  At  the  gates  of  the  city,  he 
was  received  by  the  newly-formed  provisional  govern- 
ment, Talleyrand  at  its  head  ;  and  here  it  was  that 
Count  d'Artois  replied  to  the  address  of  that  gentleman 
in  the  following  words :  "  Nothing  is  changed  in  France, 
except  tliat  from  to-day  there  will  be  one  Frenchman 
more  in  the  land."  The  people  received  him  with  cold 
curiosity,  and  the  allied  troops  formed  a  double  line  for 
his  passage  to  the  Tuileries,  at  which  the  ladies  of  the 
Faubourg  St.  Germain,  adorned  with  white  lilies  and 
white  cockades,  received  him  with  glowing  enthusiasm. 
Countess  Ducayla,  afterward  the  well-known  friend  of 
Louis  XVIIL,  had  been  one  of  the  most  active  instru- 
ments of  the  restoration,  and  she  it  was  who  had  first  un- 
folded again  in  France  the  banner  of  the  Bourbons — the 


198  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

white  flag.  A  few  days  before  the  entrance  of  the  prince, 
she  had  gone,  with  a  number  of  her  royalist  friends,  into 
the  streets,  in  order  to  excite  the  people  to  some  enthu- 
siasm for  the  legitimate  dynasty.  But  the  people  and 
the  army  had  still  preserved  their  old  love  for  the  em- 
peror, and  the  proclamation  of  Prince  Schwartzenberg, 
read  by  Bauvineux  in  the  streets,  was  listened  to  in  si- 
lence. True,  the  royalists  cried,  "  Vi/ve  le  roi  !  "  at  the 
end  of  this  reading,  but  the  people  remained  indijBEerent 
and  mute. 

This  sombre  silence  alarmed  Countess  Ducayla ;  it 
seemed  to  indicate  a  secret  discontent  with  the  new  order 
of  things.  She  felt  that  this  sullen  people  must  be  in- 
flamed, and  made  to  apeak  with  energy  and  distinctness. 
To  awaken  enthusiasm  by  means  of  words  and  procla- 
mations had  been  attempted  in  vain ;  now  the  countess 
determined  to  attempt  to  arouse  them  by  another  means 
— ^to  astonish  them  by  the  display  of  a  striking  symbol — 
to  show  them  the  white  flag  of  the  Bourbons  ! 

She  gave  her  companion,  Count  de  Montmorency,  her 
handkerchief,  that  he  might  wave  it  aloft,  fastening  it 
to  the  end  of  his  cane,  in  order  that  it  should  be  more 
conspicuous.  This  handkerchief  of  Countess  Ducayla, 
fastened  to  the  cane  of  a  Montmorency,  was  the  first 
royalist  banner  that  fluttered  over  Paris,  after  a  banish- 
ment of  twenty  years.  The  Parisians  looked  at  this  ban- 
ner with  a  kind  of  reverence  and  shuddering  wonder; 
they  did  not  greet  it  with  applause ;  they  still  remained 
silent,  but  they  nevertheless  followed  the  procession  of 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  BOURBONS.  199 

royalists,  who  marched  to  the  boulevards,  shouting,  "  Vive 
le  roi  !  "  They  took  no  part  in  their  joyful  demonstration, 
but  neither  did  they  attempt  to  prevent  it. 

This  demonstration  of  the  royalists,  and  particularly 
of  the  royalist  ladies,  transcended  the  bounds  of  pro- 
priety, and  of  their  own  dignity.  In  their  fanaticism 
for  the  legitimate  dynasty,  they  gave  the  allies  a  recep- 
tion, which  almost  assumed  the  character  of  a  declaration 
of  love,  on  the  part  of  the  fair  ladies  of  the  Faubourg  St. 
Germain,  for  all  the  soldiers  and  officers  of  the  allied 
army.  In  a  strange  confusion  of  ideas,  these  warriors, 
who  had  certainly  entered  France  as  enemies,  seemed  to 
these  fair  ones  to  be  a  part  of  the  beloved  Bourbons ; 
and  they  loved  them  with  almost  the  same  love  they  lav- 
ished upon  the  royal  family  itself.  During  several  days 
they  were,  in  their  hearts,  the  daughters  of  all  countries 
except  their  own  I 

Louis  XV  III.  was  himself  much  displeased  with  this 
enthusiasm  of  the  ladies  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain, 
and  openly  avowed  to  Countess  Ducayla  his  dissatisfaction 
with  the  ridiculous  and  contemptible  behavior  of  these 
ladies  at  that  time.  He  was  even  of  the  opinion  that  it 
was  calculated  to  injure  his  cause,  as  the  nation  had  then 
not  yet  pronounced  in  his  favor. 

"  They  should,"  said  he,  "  have  received  the  allies  with 
a  dignified  reserve,  without  frivolous  demonstrations,  and 
without  this  inconsiderate  devotion.  Such  a  demeanor 
wonld  have  inspired  them  with  respect  for  the  nation, 
whereas  they  now  leave  Paris  with  the  conviction  that 


200  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

we  are  still — as  we  were  fifty  years  ago — the  most  giddy 
and  frivolous  people  of  Europe.  You  particularly,  ladies 
— ^you  have  compromised  yourselves  in  an  incomprehen- 
sible manner.  The  allies  seemed  to  you  so  lovable  en 
masse,  that  you  gave  yourselves  the  appearance  of  also 
loving  them  en  detail  /  and  this  has  occasioned  reports 
concerning  you  which  do  little  honor  to  French  ladies  ! " 

"  But,  mon  Dieu  !  "  replied  Countess  Ducayla  to  her 
royal  friend,  "we  wished  to  show  them  a  well-earned 
gratitude  for  the  benefit  they  conferred  in  restoring  to  us 
your  majesty ;  we  wished  to  offer  them  freely  what  we, 
tired  of  resistance,  were  at  last  compelled  to  accord  to 
the  tyrants  of  the  republic  and  the  sabre-heroes  of  the 
empire  !  None  of  us  can  regret  what  we  have  done  for 
our  good  friends  the  allies  !  " 

ISTevertheless,  that  which  the  ladies  "had  done  for 
their  good  friends  the  allies  "  was  the  occasion  of  many 
annoying  family  scenes,  and  the  husbands  who  did  not 
fully  participate  in  the  enthusiasm  of  their  wives  were 
of  the  opinion  that  they  had  good  cause  to  complain  of 
their  inordinate  zeal. 

Count  G ,  among  others,  had  married  a  young 

and  beautiful  lady  a  few  days  before  the  restoration. 
She,  in  her  youthful  innocence,  was  entirely  indifferent 
to  political  matters  ;  but  her  step-father,  her  step-mother, 

and  her  husband,  Count  G ,  were  royalists  of  the  first 

water.  ' 

On  the  day  of  the  entrance  of  the  allies  into  Paris, 
step-father,  step-mother,  and  husband,  in  common  with 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  BOURBONS.  201 

all  good  legitimists,  Lurried  forward  to  welcome  "  their 
good  friends/'  and  each  of  them  returned  to  their  dwell- 
ing with  a  stranger — the  husband  with  an  Englishman, 
the  step-mother  with  a  Prussian,  and  the  step-father  with 
an  Austrian.  The  three  endeavored  to  outdo  each  other 
in  the  attentions  which  they  showered  upon  the  guests 
they  had  the  good  fortune  to  possess.  The  little  count- 
ess alone  remained  indifferent,  in  the  midst  of  the  joy 
of  her  family.  They  reproached  her  with  having  too 
little  attachment  for  the  good  cause,  and  exhorted  her  to 
do  everything  in  her  power  to  entertain  the  gallant  men 
who  had  restored  to  France  her  king. 

The  husband  requested  the  Englishman  to  instruct 
the  young  countess  in  riding ;  the  marquise  begged  the 
Prussian  to  escort  her  daughter  to  the  ball,  and  teach  her 
the  Grerman  waltz ;  and,  finally,  the  marquis,  who  had 
discovered  a  fine  taste  for  paintings  in  the  Austrian,  ap- 
pealed to  this  gentleman  to  conduct  the  young  wife 
through  the  picture-galleries. 

In   short,  every  opportunity  was  given   the  young 

countess  to  commit  a  folly,  or  rather  three  follies,  for 

she  did  not  like  to  give  the  preference  to  any  one  of  the 

three  strangers.     She  was  young,  and  inexperienced  in 

matters  of  this  kind.     Her  triple  intrigue  was,  therefore, 

soon  discovered,  and  betrayed  to  her  family ;  and  now 

husband,  step-father,  and  step-mother,  were  exasperated. 

This  exceeded  even  the  demands  of  their  royalism ;  and 

they  showered  reproaches  on  the  head  of  the  young  wifa 

"  It  is  not  my  fault ! "  cried  she,  sobbing.     "  I  only 
14 


202  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

did  what  you  commanded.  You  ordered  me  to  do  every* 
thing  in  my  power  to  entertain  these  gentlemen,  and  1 
could  therefore  refuse  them  nothing." 

But  there  were  also  cases  in  which  the  advances  of 
the  enthusiastic  ladies  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  were 
repelled.      Even  the  high-born   and  haughty  Marquise 

M was  to  experience  this  mortification.    She  stepped 

before  the  sullen,  sombre  veterans  of  the  Old  Guard  of 
the  empire,  who  had  just  allowed  Count  d'Artois  to  pass 
before  their  ranks  in  dead  silence.  She  ardently  ap- 
pealed to  their  love  for  the  dynasty  of  their  fathers,  and, 
in  her  enthusiasm  for  royalism,  went  so  far  as  to  offer  he^^ 
self  as  a  reward  to  him  who  should  first  cry  "  Vive  le 
roi!''^  But  the  faithful  soldiers  of  the  emperor  stood 
unmoved  by  this  generous  offer,  and  the  silence  remained 
unbroken  by  the  lowest  cry ! 

The  princes  who  stood  at  the  head  of  the  allied 
armies  were,  of  course,  the  objects  of  the  most  ardent 
enthusiasm  of  the  royalist  ladies ;  but  it  was,  above  all, 
with  them  that  they  found  the  least  encouragement. 
The  Emperor  of  Austria  was  too  much  occupied  with 
the  future  of  his  daughter  and  grandson,  and  the  King 
of  Prussia  was  too  grave  and  severe,  to  find  any  pleas- 
ure in  the  coquetries  of  women.  The  young  Emperor 
Alexander  of  Eussia,  therefore,  became  the  chief  object 
of  their  enthusiasm  and  love.  But  their  enthusiasm  also 
met  with  a  poor  recompense  in  this  quarter.  Almost 
distrustfully,  the  czar  held  himself  aloof  from  the  ladies 
of  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain ;  and  yet  it  was  they  who 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  BOURBONS.      203 

had  decided  the  fate  of  Prance  with  him,  and  induced 
him  to  give  his  vote  for  the  Bourbons ;  for  until  then  it 
had  remained  undetermined  whom  the  allies  should  call 
to  the  throne  of  France. 

In  his  inmost  heart,  the  Emperor  of  Russia  desired 
to  see  the  universally-beloved  Viceroy  of  Italy,  Eugene 
Beauhamais,  elevated  to  the  vacant  throne.  The  letter 
with  which  Eugene  replied  to  the  proposition  of  the 
allies,  tendering  him  the  ducal  crown  of  Genoa,  had  won 
for  Josephine's  son  the  love  and  esteem  of  the  czar  for 
all  time.  Alexander  had  himself  written  to  Eugene,  and 
proffered  him,  in  the  name  of  the  allies,  a  duchy  of 
Genoa,  if  he  would  desert  Napoleon,  and  take  sides  with 
the  allies.  Eugene  Beauhamais  had  replied  to  him  in 
the  following  letter : 

"  Sms, — I  have  received  your  majesty's  propositions. 
They  are  undoubtedly  very  favorable,  but  they  are  pow- 
erless to  change  my  resolution.  I  must  have  known  how 
to  express  my  thoughts  but  poorly  when  I  had  the  honor 
of  seeing  you,  if  your  majesty  can  believe  that  I  could 
Bully  my  honor  for  any,  even  the  highest,  reward. 
Neither  the  prospect  of  possessing  the  crown  of  the 
duchy  of  Grenoa,  nor  that  of  the  kingdom  of  Italy,  can 
induce  me  to  become  a  traitor.  The  example  of  the 
King  of  Naples  cannot  mislead  me ;  I  will  rather  be  a 
plain  soldier  than  a  traitorous  prince. 

"  The  emperor,  you  say,  has  done  me  injustice ;  I 
have  forgotten  it ;  I  only  remember  his  benefits.     I  owe 


204  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

all  to  him — my  rank,  my  titles,  and  my  fortune,  and  I 
owe  to  him  that  which  I  prefer  to  all  else — that  which 
yom*  indulgence  calls  my  renown.  I  shall,  therefore, 
serve  him  as  long  as  I  live ;  my  person  is  his,  as  is  my 
heart.  May  my  sword  break  in  my  hands,  if  it  could 
ever  turn  against  the  emperor,  or  against  France!  I 
trust  that  my  well-grounded  refusal  will  at  least  secure 
to  me  the  respect  of  your  imperial  majesty.     I  am,  etc." 

The  Emperor  of  Austria,  on  the  other  hand,  ardently 
desired  to  secure  the  throne  of  France  to  his  grandson, 
the  King  of  Rome,  under  the  regency  of  the  Empress 
Marie  Louise ;  but  he  did  not  venture  to  make  this  de- 
mand openly  and  without  reservation  of  his  allies,  whose 
action  he  had  promised  to  approve  and  ratify.  The 
appeals  of  the  Duke  of  Cadore,  who  had  been  sent  to 
her  father  by  Marie  Louise  from  Blois,  urging  the  em- 
peror to  look  after  her  interests,  and  to  demand  of  the 
allies  that  they  should  assure  the  crown  to  herself  and 
son,  were,  therefore,  fruitless. 

The  emperor  assured  his  daughter's  ambassador  that 
he  had  reason  to  hope  for  the  best  for  her,  but  that  he 
was  powerless  to  insist  on  any  action  in  her  behalf. 

"  I  love  my  daughter,"  said  the  good  emperor,  "  and 
I  love  my  son-in-law,  and  I  am  ready  to  shed  my  heart's 
blood  for  them." 

"  Majesty,"  said  the  duke,  interrupting  him,  "  no  such 
sacrifice  is  required  at  your  hands." 

"  I  am  ready  to  shed  my  blood  for  them,"  continued 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  BOURBONS.      205 

the  emperor,  "  to  sacrifice  my  life  for  them,  and  I  repeat 
it,  I  have  promised  the  allies  to  do  nothing  except  in  con- 
junction with  them,  and  to  consent  to  all  they  determine. 
Moreover,  my  minister,  Count  Mettemich,  is  at  this  mo- 
ment with  them,  and  I  shall  ratify  everything  which 
he  has  signed."  * 

But  the  emperor  still  hoped  that  that  which  Metter- 
oich  should  sign  for  him,  would  be  the  declaration  that 
the  little  King  of  Rome  was  to  be  the  King  of  France. 

But  the  zeal  of  the  royalists  was  destined  to  anni- 
hilate this  hope. 

The  Emperor  of  Russia  had  now  taken  up  his  resi- 
dence in  Talleyrand's  house.  He  had  yielded  to  the  en- 
treaties of  the  shrewd  French  diplomat,  who  well  knew 
how  much  easier  it  would  be  to  bend  the  will  of  the 
Agamemnon  of  the  holy  alliance  f  to  his  wishes,  when 
he  should  have  him  in  hand,  as  it  were,  day  and  night. 
In  offering  the  emperor  his  hospitality,  it  was  Talley- 
rand's intention  to  make  him  his  prisoner,  body  and  soul, 
and  to  use  him  to  his  own  advantage. 

It  was  therefore  to  Talleyrand  that  Countess  Ducayla 
hastened  to  concert  measures  with  the  Bonapartist  of 
yesterday,  who  had  transformed  himself  into  the  zealoui 
legitimist  of  to-day. 

Talleyrand  undertook  to  secure  the  countess  an  au- 
dience with  the  Russian  emperor,  and  he  succeeded. 

While  conducting  the  beautiful  countess  to  the  czar'g 
cabinet,   Talleyrand   whispered    in    her  ear:    "Imitate 

*  Boorrienne,  toL  x.,  p.  129.      f  M^moiree  d'lme  Femme  de  (^uAlit4 


206  QUEEN  HOKTENSE. 

Madame  de  Lemall6 — endeavor  to  make  a  great  stroke. 
The  emperor  is  gallant,  and  what  he  denies  to  diplomacy, 
he  may,  perhaps,  accord  to  the  ladies." 

He  left  her  at  the  door,  and  the  countess  entered  the 
emperor's  cabinet  alone.  She  no  sooner  saw  him,  than 
she  sank  on  her  knees,  and  stretched  out  her  arms. 

With  a  knightly  courtesy,  the  emperor  immediately 
hastened  forward  to  assist  her  to  rise. 

"  What  are  you  doing  ? "  asked  he,  almost  in  alarm. 
"  A  noble  lady  never  has  occasion  to  bend  the  knee  to  a 
cavalier." 

"  Sire,"  exclaimed  the  countess,  "  I  kneel  before  you, 
because  it  is  my  purpose  to  implore  of  your  majesty  the 
happiness  which  you  alone  can  restore  to  us ;  it  will  be 
a  double  pleasure  to  possess  Louis  XYIII.  once  more, 
when  Alexander  I.  shall  have  given  him  to  us ! " 

"  Is  it  then  true  that  the  French  people  are  still  de^ 
voted  to  the  Bourbon  family  ? " 

"  Yes,  sire,  they  are  our  only  hope ;  on  them  we  be* 
stow  our  whole  love ! " 

"  Ah,  that  is  excellent,"  cried  Alexander ;  "  are  alT 
French  ladies  filled  with  the  same  enthusiasm  as  your 
self,  madame  ? " 

"  Well,  if  this  is  the  case,  it  will  be  France  that  re- 
calls Louis  XYIIL,  and  it  will  not  be  necessary  for  us  to 
conduct  him  back.  Let  the  legislative  bodies  declare 
their  will,  and  it  shall  be  done."  * 

And  of  all  women,  Countess  Ducayla  was  the  one  to 

♦  M^moires  d'une  Femme  de  Qualite,  vol.  i.,  p.  179» 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  BOURBONS.      207 

bring  the  legislative  bodies  to  the  desired  declaration. 
She  hastened  to  communicate  the  hopes  with  which  the 
emperor  had  inspired  her  to  all  Paris ;  on  the  evening 
after  her  interview  with  the  emperor,  she  gave  a  grand 
soiree,  to  which  she  invited  the  most  beautiful  ladies  of 
her  party,  and  a  number  of  senators. 

"  I  desired  by  this  means,"  says  she  in  her  memoirs, 
'-'  to  entrap  the  gentlemen  into  making  a  vow.  How 
simple-minded  I  was  !  Did  I  not  know  that  the  major- 
ity of  them  had  already  made  and  broken  a  dozen 
vows?" 

On  the  following  day  the  senate  assembled,  and 
elected  a  provisional  government,  consisting  of  Talley- 
rand, the  Duke  of  Dalberg,  the  Marquis  of  Jancourt, 
Count  Bournonville,  and  the  Abb^  Montesquieu.  The 
senate  and  the  new  provisional  government  thereupon 
declared  Napoleon  deposed  from  the  throne,  and  recalled 
Louis  XYIII.  But  while  the  senate  thus  publicly  and 
solemnly  proclaimed  its  legitimist  sentiments  in  the  name 
of  the  French  people,  it  at  the  same  time  testified  to 
its  own  unworthiness  and  selfishness.  In  the  treaty 
made  by  the  senate  with  its  recalled  king,  it  was  pro- 
vided in  a  separate  clause,  ^^  that  the  salary  which  they 
had  hitherto  received,  should  be  continued  to  them  for 
life."  While  recalling  Louis  XVIIL,  these  senators  took 
<5are  to  pay  themselves  for  their  trouble,  and  to  secure 
^eir  own  future. 


208  QUEEN  HORTENSB. 

CHAPTEK  11. 

THE  BOURBONS  AND  THE  B0NAPAETE8. 

The  allies  hastened  to  consider  the  declaration  of  the 
senate  and  provisional  government  as  the  declaration  of 
the  people,  and  recalled  to  the  throne  of  his  fathers  Louis 
XYIII.,  who,  as  Count  de  Lille,  had  so  long  languished 
in  exile  at  Hartwell. 

The  Emperor  of  Austria  kept  his  word ;  he  made  no 
resistance  to  the  decrees  of  his  allies,  and  allowed  his 
grandson,  the  King  of  Rome,  to  be  robbed  of  his  in- 
heritance, and  the  imperial  crown  to  fall  from  his  daugh- 
ter's brow.  The  Emperor  Francis  was,  however,  as 
much  astonished  at  this  result  as  Marie  Louise,  for,  until 
their  entrance  into  Paris,  the  allies  had  flattered  the 
Austrian  emperor  with  the  hope  that  the  crown  of 
France  would  be  secured  to  his  daughter  and  grandson. 
The  emperor's  astonishment  at  this  turn  of  affairs  was 
made  the  subject  of  a  caricature,  which,  on  the  day  of 
the  entrance  of  Louis  XYIIL,  was  affixed  to  the  same 
walls  on  which  Chateaubriand's  enthusiastic  hrochure 
concerning  the  Bourbons  was  posted.  In  this  carica- 
ture, of  which  thousands  of  copies  were  sown  broadcast 
throughout  Paris,  the  Emperor  of  Austria  was  to  be  seen 
sitting  in  an  elegant  open  carriage ;  the  Emperor  Alex- 
ander sat  on  the  coachman's  box,  the  Regent  of  England 
as  postilion  on  the  lead-horse,  and  the  King  of  Prussia 


THE  BOURBONS  AND  THE  BONAPARTES.    209 

stood  up  behind  as  a  lackey.  Napoleon  ran  along  on 
foot  at  the  side  of  the  carriage,  holding  fast  to  it,  and 
crying  out  to  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  "Father-in-law, 
they  have  thrown  me  out " — "  And  taken  me  m,"  was 
the  reply  of  Francis  I. 

The  exultation  of  the  ladies  of  the  Faubourg  St. 
Germain  was  great,  now  that  their  king  was  at  last  re- 
stored to  them,  and  tliey  eagerly  embraced  every  means 
of  showing  their  gratitude  to  the  Emperor  of  Eussia. 
But  Alexander  remained  entirely  unsusceptible  to  their 
homage ;  he  even  went  so  far  as  to  avoid  attending  the 
entertainments  given  by  the  new  king  at  the  Tuileries, 
and  society  was  shocked  at  seeing  the  emperor  openly 
displaying  his  sympathy  for  the  family  of  the  Emperor 
Napoleon,  and  repairing  to  Malmaison,  instead  of  ap- 
pearing at  the  Tuileries. 

Count  Nesselrode  at  last  conjured  his  friend  Louise 
de  Cochelet  to  inform  the  czar  of  the  feeling  of  dismay 
that  pervaded  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain,  when  he  should 
come  to  Queen  Hortense's  maid-of-honor,  as  he  was  in 
the  habit  of  doing  from  time  to  time,  for  the  purpose  of 
discussing  the  queen's  interests  with  her. 

"  Sire,"  said  she  to  the  czar,  "  the  Faubourg  St.  Ger- 
main regards  your  majesty's  zeal  in  the  queen's  behalf 
with  great  jealousy.  It  has  even  caused  Count  Nessel- 
rode  much  concern.  *  Our  emperor,'  said  he  to  me,  re- 
cently, *  goes  to  Malmaison  much  too  often ;  the  high  cir- 
cles of  society,  and  the  diplomatic  body,  are  already  in 
dismay  about  it ;  it  is  feared  that  he  is  there  subjected  to 


210  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

influences  to  which  policy  requires  he  should  not  be  ex- 
posed.' " 

"  This  is  characteristic  of  my  Kesselrode,"  replied  the 
emperor,  laughing,  "  he  is  so  easily  disquieted.  What  do 
I  care  for  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain?  It  speaks  ill 
enough  for  these  ladies  that  they  have  not  made  a  con- 
quest of  me  !  I  prefer  the  noble  qualities  of  the  soul  to 
all  outward  appearances ;  and  I  find  united  in  the  Em- 
press Josephine,  in  the  Queen  of  Holland,  and  in  Prince 
Eugene,  all  that  is  admirable  and  lovable.  I  am  better 
pleased  to  be  here  with  you  in  quiet,  confidential  inter- 
course, than  with  those  who  really  demean  themselves  as 
though  they  were  crazed,  and  who,  instead  of  enjoying 
the  triumph  we  have  prepared  for  them,  are  only  intent 
on  destroying  their  enemies,  and  have  commenced  with 
those  who  formerly  accorded  them  such  generous  protec- 
tion ;  they  really  weary  one  with  their  extravagances. 

"  Frenchwomen  are  coquettish,"  said  the  emperor  in 
the  course  of  the  conversation  ;  "  I  came  here  in  great 
fear  of  them,  for  I  knew  how  far  their  amiability  could 
extend ;  but  their  heart  is  undoubtedly  no  longer  their 
own.  I  am  therefore  on  my  guard  against  being  deceived 
by  it,  and  I  fancy  these  ladies  love  to  please  so  well,  that 
they  are  even  angry  with  those  who  respond  to  the  atten- 
tions which  are  so  lavishly  showered  on  them,  with  con- 
ventional politeness  only." 

Louise  de  Cochelet  undertook  to  defend  the  French 
ladies  against  the  emperor's  attacks.  She  told  him  he 
should  not  judge  of  them  by  the  manner  in  which  they 


THE  BOURBONS  AND  THE  BONAPARTES.    211 

had  conducted  themselves  toward  him,  as  it  was  but 
natural  that  the  ladies  should  be  inspired  with  enthusiasm 
for  a  young  emperor  who  appeared  to  them  in  so  favor- 
able a  light,  and  that  they  must  necessarily,  even  without 
being  coquettish,  ardently  desire  to  be  noticed  by  him. 

"But,"  said  the  emperor,  with  his  soft,  sad  smile, 
"  have  these  ladies  only  been  waiting  for  me  in  order  to 
feel  their  heart  palpitate  ?  I  seek  mind  and  entertain- 
ment, but  I  fly  from  all  those  who  display  a  desire  to  exer- 
cise a  control  over  my  heart ;  in  this  I  see  nothing  but 
self-love,  and  I  hold  myself  aloof  from  such  contact." 

While  the  royalists  and  the  ladies  of  the  Faubourg 
St.  Germain  were  lavishing  attentions  upon  the  allies,  and 
assuring  the  returned  king  of  the  boundless  delight  of 
his  people,  this  people  was  already  beginning  to  grumble. 
The  allies  had  now  completed  their  task,  they  had  re- 
stored to  France  its  legitimate  king,  and  they  now  put 
the  finishing-touch  to  their  work  by  providing  in  the 
treaty,  that  France  should  be  narrowed  down  to  the 
boundaries  it  had  had  before  the  revolution. 

France  was  compelled  to  conform  to  the  will  of  its 
vanquishers.  From  the  weakness  of  the  legitimists  they 
now  snatched  that  which  they  had  been  compelled  to  ac- 
cord to  the  strength  of  the  empire. 

All  of  those  fortified  places,  that  had  been  bought 
with  so  much  French  blood,  and  that  were  still  held  by 
Frenchmen,  were  to  be  given  up,  and  the  great,  extended 
France  was  to  shrink  back  into  the  France  it  had  been 
thirty  years  before  1     It  was  this  that  made  the  people 


212  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

murmur.  The  Frenchmen  who  had  left  l!^apoleon  be- 
cause they  had  grown  weary  of  endless  wars,  were,  never- 
theless, proud  of  the  conquests  they  had  made  under  their 
emperor.  The  surrender  of  these  conquests  wounded  the 
national  pride,  and  they  were  angry  with  their  king  for 
being  so  ready  to  put  this  shame  upon  France — for  hold- 
ing the  crown  of  France  in  higher  estimation  than  the 
honor  of  France ! 

It  must  be  conceded,  however,  that  Louis  XYIII.  had 
most  bitterly  felt  the  disgrace  that  attached  to  him  in  this 
re-establishment  of  France  within  its  ancient  boundaries, 
and  he  had  endeavored  to  protest  in  every  way  against 
this  demand  of  the  allies.  But  his  representative  had 
been  made  to  understand  that  if  Louis  XYIII.  could  not 
content  himself  with  the  France  the  allies  were  prepared 
to  give  him,  he  was  at  liberty  to  relinquish  it  to  Marie 
Louise.  The  king  was,  therefore,  compelled  to  yield  to 
necessity ;  but  he  did  so  with  bitter  mortification,  and 
while  his  courtiers  were  giving  free  rein  to  their  enthusi- 
asm for  the  allies,  he  was  heard  to  whisper,  "  I^os  chers 
amis  les  ennemis  /  "  * 

Thus  embittered  against  the  allies,  it  was  only  with 
great  reluctance,  and  after  a  long  and  bitter  struggle,  that 
Louis  XYIII.  consented  to  the  demands  made  by  the 
allies  in  behalf  of  the  family  of  IvTapoleon.  But  the  Em- 
peror Alexander  kept  his  word  ;  he  defended  the  rights 
of  the  Queen  of  Holland  and  her  children  against  the  ill- 
will  of  the  Bourbons,  the  dislike  of  the  royalists,  and  the 

*  "  Our  dear  friends  the  enemies  I " 


THE  BOURBONS  AND  THE  BONAPARTES.    213 

disinclination  of  the  allies,  alike.  The  family  of  the  em- 
peror owed  it  to  him  and  to  his  firmness  alone  that  the 
article  of  the  treaty  of  the  11th  of  April,  in  which  Louis 
XYIII.  agreed  "  that  the  titles  and  dignities  of  all  the 
members  of  the  family  of  the  Emperor  Napoleon  should 
be  recognized,  and  that  they  should  not  be  deprived  of 
them,"  remained  something  more  than  a  mere  phrase. 

It  was  only  after  repeated  efforts  that  the  emperor  at 
last  succeeded  in  obtaining  for  Hortense,  from  Louis 
XVIIL,  an  estate  and  a  title,  that  secured  her  position. 
King  Louis  finally  yielded  to  his  urgent  solicitations,  and 
conferred  upon  Hortense  the  title  of  Duchess  of  St.  Leu, 
and  made  her  estate,  St.  Leu,  a  duchy. 

But  this  was  done  with  the  greatest  reluctance,  and 
only  under  the  pressure  of  the  king's  obligations  to  the 
allies,  who  had  given  him  his  throne  ;  and  these  obliga- 
tions the  Bourbons  would  have  forgotten  as  willingly  as 
the  whole  period  of  the  revolution  and  of  the  empire. 

For  the  Bourbons  seemed  but  to  have  awakened  from 
a  long  sleep,  and  were  not  a  little  surprised  to  find  that 
the  world  had  progressed  in  the  meanwhile. 

According  to  their  ideas,  every  thing  must  have  re- 
mained standing  at  the  point  where  they  had  left  it 
twenty  years  before ;  and  they  were  at  least  determined 
to  ignore  all  that  had  happened  in  the  interval.  King 
Louis  therefore  signed  his  first  act  as  in  "  the  nineteenth  " 
year  of  his  reign,  and  endeavored  in  all  things  to  keep 
np  a  semblance  of  the  continuation  of  his  reign  since 
the  year  1789.     Hence,  the  letters-patent  in  which  King 


214  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

Louis  appointed  Hortense  Duchess  of  St.  Leu  were 
drawn  up  in  a  manner  offensive  to  the  queen,  for  they 
contained  the  following:  "The  king  appoints  Made- 
moiselle Hortense  de  Beauharnais  Duchess  of  St.  Leu." 

The  queen  refused  to  accept  this  title,  under  the  cir- 
<jumstances,  and  rejected  the  letters-patent.  It  was  not 
until  the  czar  had  angrily  demanded  it,  that  M.  de  Blacas, 
the  king's  premier,  consented  to  draw  up  the  letters- 
patent  in  a  different  style.  They  read :  "  The  king  ap- 
points Hortense  Eugenie,  included  in  the  treaty  of  the 
11th  of  April,  Duchess  of  St.  Leu."  This  was,  to  be  sure, 
merely  a  negative  and  disguised  recognition  of  the  former 
rank  of  the  queen ;  but  it  was,  at  least  no  longer  a  degra- 
•dation  to  accept  it. 

The  Viceroy  of  Italy,  the  noble  Eugene — who  was 
universally  beloved,  and  who  had  come  to  Paris,  at  the 
express  wish  of  the  czar,  to  secure  his  future — occasioned 
the  Bourbons  quite  as  much  annoyance  and  perplexity. 

The  king  could  not  refuse  to  recognize  the  brave 
hero  of  the  empire  and  the  son-in-law  of  the  King  of 
Bavaria,  who  was  one  of  the  allies ;  and,  as  Eugene  de- 
sired an  audience  of  the  king,  it  was  accorded  him  at 
once. 

But  how  was  he  to  be  received?  With  what  title 
was  Napoleon's  step-son,  the  Yiceroy  of  Italy,  to  be  ad- 
dressed? It  would  have  been  altogether  too  ridiculou* 
to  repeat  the  absurdity  contained  in  Hortense's  letters- 
patent,  and  call  Eugene  "  Viscount  de  Beauharnais  ; "  but 
to  accord  him  the  royal  title  would  have  compromised  the 


THE  BOURBONS  AND  THE  BONAPARTES.         215 

dignity  of  the  legitimate  dynasty.  A  brilliant  solution 
of  this  difficult  question  suggested  itself  to  King  Louis. 
When  the  Duke  d'Aumont  conducted  Prince  Eugene  to 
the  royal  presence,  the  king  advanced,  with  a  cordial 
smile,  and  saluted  him  with  the  words,  "  M.  Marshal  of 
France,  I  am  happy  to  see  you." 

Eugene,  who  was  on  the  point  of  making  his  saluta- 
tion, remained  silent,  and  looked  over  his  shoulder  to  see 
whom  the  king  was  speaking  with.  Louis  XYIII.  smiled, 
and  continued :  "  You,  my  dear  sir,  are  a  marshal  of 
France.     I  appoint  you  to  this  dignity." 

"  Sire,"  said  Eugene,  bowing  profoundly,  "  I  am 
much  obliged  to  your  majesty  for  your  kind  intentions, 
but  the  misfortune  of  the  rank  to  which  destiny  has  called 
me  will  not  allow  me  to  accept  the  high  title  with  which 
you  honor  me.  I  thank  you  very  much,  but  I  must  de- 
cline it."  * 

The  king's  stratagem  had  thus  come  to  grief,  and 
Eugene  left  the  royal  presence  with  flying  colors.  He 
was  not  under  the  necessity  of  accepting  benefits  from 
the  King  of  France,  for  his  step-father,  the  King  of  Ba- 
varia, made  Eugene  a  prince  of  the  royal  house  of  Ba- 
varia, and  created  for  him  the  duchy  of  Leuchtenberg. 
Hither  Eugene  retired,  and  lived  there,  surrounded  by 
his  wife  and  children,  in  peace  and  tranquillity,  until 
death  tore  him  from  the  arms  of  his  sorrowing  family,  in 
the  year  1824. 

*  M^moires  d'nne  Femme  de  Quality,  voL  i.,  p.  267. 


216  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

CHAPTER  III. 

MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

The  restoration,  that  had  overthrown  so  many  of  the 
great,  and  that  was  destined  to  restore  to  the  light  so 
many  names  that  had  lain  buried  in  obscurity,  now 
brought  back  to  Paris  a  person  who  had  been  banished 
by  Napoleon,  and  who  had  been  adding  new  lustre  and 
renown  to  her  name  in  a  foreign  land.  This  personage 
was  Madame  de  Stael,  the  daughter  of  Necker,  the  re- 
nowned poetess  of  "  Corinne  "  and  **  Delphine." 

It  had  been  a  long  and  bitter  struggle  between 
Madame  de  Stael  and  the  mighty  Emperor  of  the 
French ;  and  Madame  de  Stael,  with  her  genius  and  her 
impassioned  eloquence,  and  adorned  with  the  laurel- 
wreath  of  her  exile,  had  perhaps  done  Napoleon  more 
harm  than  a  whole  army  of  his  enemies.  Intense  hatred 
existed  on  both  sides,  and  yet  it  had  depended  on  Napo- 
leon alone  to  transform  this  hatred  into  love.  For 
Madame  de  Stael  had  been  disposed  to  lavish  the  whole 
impassioned  enthusiasm  of  her  heart  upon  the  young 
hero  of  Marengo  and  Areola — quite  disposed  to  become 
the  Egeria  of  this  Numa  Pompilius.  In  the  warm  im- 
pulse of  her  stormy  imagination,  Madame  de  Stael,  in 
reference  to  Bonaparte,  had  even,  in  a  slight  measure, 
been  regardless  of  her  position  as  a  lady,  and  had  only 
remembered  that  she  was  a  poetess,  and  that,  as  such,  it 
became  her  well  to  celebrate  the  hero,  and  to  bestow  on 


^ 


MADAME  DE  STAfiL.  217 

the  luminous  constellation  that  was  rising  over  France 
the  glowing  dithyrambic  of  her  greetings. 

Madame  de  Stael  had,  therefore,  not  waited  for  Na- 
poleon to  seek  her,  but  had  made  the  first  advances,  and 
sought  him. 

To  the  returning  victor  of  Italy  she  wrote  letters 
filled  with  impassioned  enthusiasm ;  but  these  letters 
afforded  the  youthful  general  but  little  pleasure.  In  the 
midst  of  the  din  of  battle  and  the  grand  schemes  with 
which  he  was  continually  engaged,  Bonaparte  found  but 
little  time  to  occupy  himself  with  the  poetical  works  of 
Madam«  de  Stael.  He  knew  of  her  nothing  more  than 
that  she  was  the  daughter  of  the  minister  Necker,  and  that 
was  no  recommendation  in  Napoleon's  eyes,  for  he  felt 
little  respect  for  Keeker's  genius,  and  even  went  so  far 
as  to  call  him  the  instigator  of  the  great  revolution.  It 
was,  therefore,  with  astonishment  that  the  young  general 
received  the  enthusiastic  letter  of  the  poetess ;  and,  while 
showing  it  to  some  of  his  intimate  friends,  he  said,  with 
a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  "  Do  you  understand  these  ex- 
travagances ?     This  woman  is  foolish ! " 

But  Madame  de  Stael  did  not  allow  herself  to  be  dis- 
mayed by  Bonaparte's  coldness  and  silence — she  c<m- 
tinued  to  write  new  and  more  glowing  letters. 

In  one  of  these  letters  she  went  so  far  in  her  incon- 
siderate enthusiasm  as  to  say,  that  it  was  a  great  error 
in  human  institutions  that  the  gentle  and  quiet  Jose- 
phine had  united  her  faith  with  his ;  that  she,  Madame 
de  Stael,  and  Bonaparte,  were  bom  for  each  other,  and 

15 


218  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

that  IN'ature  seemed  to  have  created  a  soul  of  fire  like 
hers,  in  order  that  it  might  worship  a  hero  such  as  he 
was. 

Bonaparte  crushed  the  letter  in  his  hands,  and  ex- 
claimed, as  he  threw  it  in  the  fire :  "  That  a  blue-stock- 
ing, a  manuf actress  of  sentiment,  should  dare  to  compare 
herself  to  Josephine !     I  shall  not  answer  these  letters ! " 

He  did  not  answer  them,  but  Madame  de  Stael  did 
not,  or  rather  would  not,  understand  his  silence.  Little 
disposed  to  give  up  a  resolution  once  formed,  and  to  see 
her  plans  miscarry,  Madame  de  Stael  was  now  also  de- 
termined to  have  her  way,  and  to  approach  Bonaparte 
despite  his  resistance. 

And  she  did  have  her  way ;  she  succeeded  in  over- 
coming all  obstacles,  and  the  interview,  so  long  wished 
for  by  her,  and  so  long  avoided  by  him,  at  last  took 
place.  Madame  de  Stael  was  introduced  at  the  TuilerieSy 
and  received  by  Bonaparte  and  his  wife.  The  personal 
appearance  of  this  intellectual  woman  was,  however,  but 
little  calculated  to  overcome  Bonaparte's  prejudice.  The 
costume  of  Madame  de  Stael  was  on  this  occasion,  as  it 
always  was,  fantastic,  and  utterly  devoid  of  taste,  and 
Kapoleon  loved  to  see  women  simply  but  elegantly  and 
tastefully  attired.  In  this  interview  with  Napoleon^ 
Madame  de  Stael  gave  free  scope  to  her  wit ;  but  instead 
of  dazzling  him,  as  she  had  hoped  to  do^  she  only  suc- 
ceeded in  depressing  him. 

It  was  while  in  this  frame  of  mind,  and  when  Ma- 
dame  de  Stael,  in  her  ardor,  had  endeavored  almost  to 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  21ft 

force  him  to  pay  her  a  compliment,  that  Napoleon  re- 
sponded to  her  at  least  somewhat  indiscreet  question : 
"  Who  is  in  your  eyes  the  greatest  woman  ? "  with  the 
sarcastic  reply,  "  She  who  bears  the  most  children  to  the 
state." 

Madame  de  Stael  had  come  with  a  heart  full  of  en- 
thusiasm; in  her  address  to  Napoleon,  she  had  called 
him  a  "  god  descended  to  earth ; "  she  had  come  an  en- 
thusiastic poetess;  she  departed  an  offended  woman. 
Her  wounded  vanity  never  forgave  the  answer  which 
seemed  to  make  her  ridiculous.  She  avenged  herself,  in 
her  drawing-room,  by  the  biting  hon  mots  which  she- 
hurled  at  Napoleon  and  his  family,  and  which  were  of 
course  faithfully  repeated  to  the  first  consul. 

Kut  the  weapons  which  this  intellectual  woman  now 
wielded  against  the  hero  who  had  scorned  her,  wounded 
him  more  severely  than  weapons  of  steel  or  iron.  In 
the  use  of  these  weapons,  Madame  de  Stael  was  his  supe- 
rior, and  the  consciousness  of  this  embittered  Bonaparte 
all  the  more  against  the  lady,  who  dared  prick  the  hee} 
of  Achilles  with  the  needle  of  her  wit,  and  strike  at  the 
very  point  where  he  was  most  sensitive. 

A  long  and  severe  conflict  now  began  between  these 
two  greatest  geniuses  of  that  period,  a  struggle  that  was 
carried  on  by  both  with  equal  bitterness.  But  Napoleon 
had  outward  power  on  his  side,  and  could  punish  the 
enmity  of  his  witty  opponent,  as  a  ruler. 

He  banished  Madame  de  Stael  from  Paris,  and  soon 
afterward  even  from  France.      She  who  in   Paris  had 


220  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

been  so  ready  to  sing  the  praises  of  her  "  god  descended 
from  heaven,"  now  went  into  exile  his  enemy  and  a  roy- 
alist, to  engage,  with  all  her  eloquence  and  genius,  in 
making  proselytes  for  the  exiled  Bourbons,  and  to  raise 
in  the  minds  of  men  an  invisible  but  none  the  less  formi- 
dable army  against  her  enemy  the  great  ^NTapoleon. 

Madame  de  Stael  soon  gave  still  greater  weight  to 
the  flaming  eruptions  of  her  hatred  of  !N^apoleon,  by  her 
own  increasing  renown  and  greatness ;  and  the  poetess 
of  Corinne  and  Delphine  soon  became  as  redoubtable  an 
opponent  of  Napoleon  as  England,  Russia,  or  Austria, 
could  be. 

But  in  the  midst  of  the  triumphs  she  was  celebrating 
in  her  exile,  Madame  de  Stael  soon  began  to  long 
ardently  to  return  to  France,  which  she  loved  all  the 
more  for  having  been  compelled  to  leave  it.  She  there- 
fore used  all  the  influence  she  possessed  in  Paris,  to  ob- 
tain from  Napoleon  permission  to  return  to  her  home, 
but  the  emperor  remained  inexorable,  even  after  having 
read  Delphine. 

"  I  love,"  said  he,  "  women  who  make  men  of  them- 
selves just  as  little  as  I  love  effeminate  men.  There  is 
an  appropriate  role  for  every  one  in  the  world.  Of 
what  use  is  this  vagabondizing  of  fantasy  ?  What  does 
it  accomplish?  Nothing!  All  this  is  nothing  but  do^ 
rangement  of  mind  and  feeling.  I  dislike  women  whd 
throw  themselves  in  my  arms,  and  for  this  reason,  if  foi 
no  other,  I  dislike  this  woman,  who  is  certainly  one  of 
that  number." 


MADAME  DE  STAfiU  221 

Madame  de  Stael's  petitions  to  be  permitted  to  return 
to  Paris  were  therefore  rejected,  but  she  was  as  little 
disposed  to  abandon  her  purpose  now  as  she  was  at  the 
time  she  sought  to  gain  Bonaparte's  good-will.  She 
continued  to  make  attempts  to  achieve  her  aim,  for  it 
was  not  only  her  country  that  she  wished  to  reconquer, 
but  also  a  million  francs  which  she  wished  to  have  paid 
to  her  out  of  the  French  treasury. 

Her  father,  Minister  Necker,  had  loaned  his  suffering 
country  a  million  francs,  at  a  time  of  financial  distress 
and  famine,  to  buy  bread  for  the  starving  people,  and 
Louis  XYI.  had  guaranteed,  in  writing,  that  this  "  na- 
tional debt  of  France  "  should  be  returned. 

But  the  revolution  that  shattered  the  throne  of  the 
unfortunate  king,  also  buried  beneath  the  ruins  of  the 
olden  time  the  promises  and  oaths  that  had  been  written 
on  parchment  and  paper. 

Madame  de  Stael  now  demanded  that  the  emperor 
should  fulfil  the  promises  of  the  overthrown  king,  and 
that  the  heir  of  the  throne  of  the  Bourbons  should  as- 
sume the  obligations  into  which  a  Bourbon  had  entered 
with  her  father. 

She  had  once  called  Napoleon  a  god  descended  from 
heaven ;  and  she  even  now  wished  that  he  might  still 
prove  a  god  for  her,  namely,  the  god  Pluto,  who  should 
pour  out  a  million  upon  her  from  his  horn  of  plenty. 

As  she  could  not  go  to  France  herself,  she  sent  her 
son  to  plead  with  the  emperor,  for  herself  and  her  chil- 
dren. 


222  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

Well  knowing,  however,  how  difficult  it  would  be,  even 
for  her  son  to  secure  an  audience  of  the  emperor,  she  ad-^ 
dressed  herself  to  Queen  Hortense  in  eloquent  letters  im- 
ploring her  to  exert  her  influence  in  her  son's  behalf. 

Hortense,  ever  full  of  pity  for  misfortune,  felt  the 
warmest  sympathy  and  admiration  for  the  genius  of  the 
great  poetess,  and  interceded  for  Madame  de  Stael  with 
great  courage  and  eloquence.  She  alone  ventured,  re- 
gardless of  Napoleon's  frowns  and  displeasure,  to  plead 
the  cause  of  the  poor  exile  again  and  again,  and  to  solicit 
her  recall  to  France,  as  a  simple  act  of  justice  ;  she  even 
went  so  far  in  her  generosity  as  to  extend  the  hospitalities 
of  her  drawing-rooms  to  the  poetess's  son,  who  was  avoid- 
ed  and  fled  from  by  every  one  else. 

Hortense's  soft  entreaties  and  representations  were 
at  last  successful  in  soothing  the  emperor's  anger.  He 
allowed  Madame  de  Stael  to  return  to  France,  on  the  con- 
dition that  she  should  never  come  to  Paris  or  its  vicinity ;. 
he  then  also  accorded  Madame  de  Stael's  son  the  long- 
sought  favor  of  an  audience. 

This  interview  of  IN'apoleon  with  Madame  de  Stael's 
son  is  as  remarkable  as  it  is  original.  On  this  occasion, 
Napoleon  openly  expressed  his  dislike  and  even  his  hatred 
as  well  of  Madame  de  Stael  as  of  her  father,  although  he 
listened  with  generous  composure  to  the  warm  defence  of 
the  son  and  grandson. 

Young  Stael  told  the  emperor  of  his  mother's  longing 
to  return  to  her  home,  and  touchingly  portrayed  the  sad- 
ness and  unhappiness  of  her  exile. 


MADAME  DE  STA^L.  223 

"  Ah,  bah  !  "  exclaimed  the  emperor,  "  your  mother 
is  in  a  state  of  exaltation.  I  do  not  say  that  she  is  a  bad 
woman.  She  has  wit,  and  much  intellect,  perhaps  too 
much,  but  hers  is  an  inconsiderate,  an  insubordinate  spirit. 
She  has  grown  up  in  the  chaos  of  a  falling  monarchy,  and 
of  a  revolution,  and  she  has  amalgamized  the  two  in  her 
mind.  This  is  all  a  source  of  danger  ;  she  would  make 
proselytes,  she  must  be  watched  ;  she  does  not  love  me. 
The  interests  of  those  whom  she  might  compromise,  re- 
quire that  I  should  not  permit  her  to  return  to  Paris.  If 
I  should  allow  her  to  do  so,  she  would  place  me  under 
the  necessity  of  sending  her  to  Bicetre,  or  of  imprisoning 
her  in  the  Temple,  before  six  months  elapsed  ;  that  would 
be  extremely  disagreeable,  for  it  would  cause  a  sensation, 
and  injure  me  in  the  public  opinion.  Inform  your 
mother  that  my  resolution  is  irrevocable.  While  I  live, 
she  shall  not  return  to  Paris." 

It  was  in  vain  that  young  Stael  assured  him  in  his 
mother's  name,  that  she  would  avoid  giving  him  the  least 
occasion  for  displeasure,  and  that  she  would  live  in  com- 
plete retirement  if  permitted  to  return  to  Paris. 

"  Ah,  yes !  I  know  the  value  of  fine  promises  !  "  ex- 
claimed the  emperor.  "  I  know  what  the  result  would 
be,  and  I  repeat  it,  it  cannot  be  !  She  would  be  the  ral- 
ly ing-point  of  the  whole  Faubourg  St.  Germain.  She 
live  in  retirement  I  Visits  would  be  made  her,  and  she 
would  return  them  ;  she  would  commit  a  thousand  indis- 
cretions, and  say  a  thousand  humorous  things,  to  which 
she  attaches  no  importance,  but  which  annoy  me.     My 


224r  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

government  is  no  jest,  I  take  every  thing  seriously ;  I 
wish  this  to  be  understood,  and  you  may  proclaim  it  to 
the  whole  world  !  " 

Young  Stael  had,  however,  the  courage  to  continue 
his  entreaties ;  he  even  went  so  far  as  to  inquire  in  all 
humility  for  the  grounds  of  the  emperor's  ill-will  against 
his  mother.  He  said  he  had  been  assured  that  Necker's 
last  work  was  more  particularly  the  cause  of  the  emper- 
or's displeasure,  and  that  he  believed  Madame  de  Stael 
had  assisted  in  writing  it.  This  was,  however,  not  so, 
and  he  could  solemnly  assure  the  emperor  that  hia 
mother  had  taken  no  part  in  it  whatever.  Besides, 
Necker  had  also  done  full  justice  to  the  emperor  in  thigi 
work. 

"  Justice,  indeed  !  He  calls  me  the  *  necessary  man.' 
The  necessary  man !  and  yet,  according  to  his  book,  the 
first  step  necessary  to  be  taken,  was  to  take  off  this  ne- 
cessary man's  head  !  Yes,  I  was  necessary  to  repair  all 
that  your  grandfather  had  destroyed  !  It  is  he  who  over- 
threw the  monarchy,  and  brought  Louis  XYI.  to  the 
•scaffold ! " 

"  Sire  !  "  exclaimed  the  young  man,  deeply  agitated, 
"  you  are  then  not  aware  that  my  grandfather's  estates 
were  confiscated  because  he  defended  the  king  !  " 

*'  A  fine  defence,  indeed !  If  I  give  a  man  poison, 
;and  then,  when  he  lies  in  the  death-struggle,  give  him  an 
Antidote,  can  you  then  maintain  that  I  wished  to  save  this 
man  ?  It  was  in  this  manner  that  M.  ^N'ecker  defended 
Louis  XYI.     The  confiscations  of  which  you  speak  prove 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  225 

nothing.  Robespierre's  property  was  also  confiscated. 
Not  even  Robespierre,  Marat,  and  Danton,  have  brought 
such  misery  upon  France  as  Necker  ;  he  it  is  who  made 
the  revolution.  You  did  not  see  it,  but  I  was  present  in 
those  days  of  horror  and  public  distress  ;  but  I  give  you 
my  word  that  they  shall  return  no  more  while  I  live ! 
Your  schemers  writ«  out  their  Utopias,  the  simple-minded 
read  these  dreams,  they  are  printed  and  believed  in ;  the 
common  welfare  is  in  everybody's  mouth,  and  soon  there 
ia  no  more  bread  for  the  people ;  it  revolts,  and  that  is 
the  usual  result  of  all  these  fine  theories  !  Your  grand- 
father is  to  blame  for  the  orgies  that  brought  France  to 
desperation." 

Then  lowering  his  voice,  from  the  excited,  almost 
angry  tone  in  which  he  had  been  speaking,  to  a  milder 
one,  the  emperor  approached  the  young  man,  who  stood 
before  him,  pale,  and  visibly  agitated.  With  that  charm- 
ing air  of  friendly  intimacy  that  no  one  knew  so  well  how 
to  assume  as  Napoleon,  he  gently  pinched  the  tip  of  the 
young  man's  ear,  the  emperor's  usual  way  of  making 
peace  with  any  one  to  whom  he  wished  well,  after  a  little 
diflSculty. 

"  You  are  still  young,"  said  he  ;  "  if  you  possessed  my 
age  and  experience,  you  would  judge  of  these  matters  dif- 
ferently. Your  candor  has  not  offended,  but  pleased  me ; 
I  like  to  see  a  son  defend  his  mother's  cause  I  Your 
mother  has  intrusted  you  with  a  very  difficult  commis- 
sion, and  you  have  executed  it  with  much  spirit.  It 
gives  me  pleasure  to  have  conversed  with  you,  for  I  love 


226  QUEEN  HORTENSB. 

the  young  when  they  are  straightforward  and  not  too 
*  argumentative.'  But  I  can  nevertheless  give  you  no 
false  hopes !  You  will  accomplish  nothing !  If  your 
mother  were  in  prison,  I  should  not  hesitate  to  grant 
you  her  release.  But  she  is  in  exile,  and  nothing  can  in- 
duce me  to  recall  her." 

"  But,  sire,  is  one  not  quite  as  unhappy  far  from  home 
and  friends,  as  in  prison  ?  " 

"  Ah,  bah !  those  are  romantic  notions !  You  have 
heard  that  said  about  your  mother.  She  is  truly  greatly 
to  be  pitied.  "With  the  exception  of  Paris,  she  has  the 
whole  of  Europe  for  her  prison  !  " 

"  But,  sire,  all  her  friends  are  in  Paris !  " 

"  With  her  intellect,  she  will  be  able  to  acquire  new 
ones  everywhere.  Moreover,  I  cannot  understand  why 
she  should  desire  to  be  in  Paris.  Why  does  she  so  long 
to  place  herself  in  the  immediate  yeach  of  tyranny? 
You  see  I  pronounce  the  decisive  word!  I  am  really 
unable  to  comprehend  it.  Can  she  not  go  to  Kome,  Ber- 
lin, Vienna,  Milan,  or  London  ?  Yes,  London  would  be 
the  right  place!  There  she  can  perpetrate  libels  when- 
ever she  pleases.  At  all  of  these  places  I  will  leave  her 
undisturbed  with  the  greatest  pleasure ;  but  Paris  is  my 
residence,  and  there  I  will  tolerate  those  only  who  love 
me !  On  this  the  world  can  depend.  I  know  what  would 
happen,  if  I  should  permit  your  mother  to  return  to 
Paris.  She  would  commit  new  follies ;  she  would  cor- 
nipt  those  who  surround  me ;  she  would  corrupt  Garat, 
as  she  once  corrupted  the  tribunal ;  of  course,  she  would 


MADAME  DE  STAfiL.  227 

promise  all  things,  but  she  would,  nevertheless,  not  avoid 
-engaging  in  politics." 

"  Sire,"  I  can  assure  you  that  my  mother  does  not 
occupy  herself  with  politics  at  all ;  she  devotes  herself 
exclusively  to  the  society  of  her  friends,  and  to  litera- 
ture." 

"  That  is  the  right  word,  and  I  fully  understand  it. 
One  talks  politics  while  talking  of  literature,  of  morals, 
of  the  fine  arts,  and  of  every  conceivable  thing !  If  your 
mother  were  in  Paris,  her  latest  hon  mots  and  phrases 
would  be  recited  to  me  daily ;  perhaps  they  would  be 
only  invented ;  but  I  tell  you  I  will  have  nothing  of  the 
kind  in  the  city  in  which  I  reside !  It  would  be  best  for 
her  to  go  to  London;  advise  her  to  do  so.  As  far  as 
your  grandfather  is  concerned,  I  have  certainly  not  said 
too  much ;  M.  Necker  had  no  administrative  ability. 
Once  more,  inform  your  mother  that  I  shall  never  per- 
mit her  to  return  to  Paris." 

"  But  if  sacred  interests  should  require  her  presence 
here  for  a  few  days,  your  majesty  would  at  least — " 

"  What  ?     Sacred  interests  ?    What  does  that  mean  ? " 

"  Sire,"  the  presence  of  my  mother  will  be  necessary, 
in  order  to  procure  from  your  majesty's  government  the 
return  of  a  sacred  debt." 

"  Ah,  bah !  sacred  I  Are  not  all  the  debts  of  the  state 
sacred  ? " 

"Without  doubt,  sire;  but  ours  is  accompanied  by 
peculiar  circumstances." 

"  Peculiar  circumstances  I ''  exclaimed    the  emperor. 


228  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

rising  to  terminate  the  long  interview,  that  began  to 
weary  him.  "  What  creditor  of  the  state  does  not  say 
the  same  of  his  debt  ?  Moreover,  I  know  too  little  of 
your  relations  toward  my  government.  This  matter 
does  not  concern  me,  and  I  will  not  be  mixed  up  in  it. 
If  the  laws  are  for  you,  all  will  go  well  without  my  inter- 
ference ;  but  if  it  requires  influence,  I  shall  have  nothing 
to  do  with  it,  for  I  should  be  rather  against  than  for 
you ! " 

"  Sire,"  said  young  Stael,  venturing  to  speak  once 
more,  as  the  emperor  was  on  the  point  of  leaving,  "  sire, 
my  brother  and  I  were  anxious  to  settle  in  France ;  but 
how  could  we  live  in  a  land  in  which  our  mother  would 
not  be  allowed  to  live  with  us  everywhere  ?  " 

Already  standing  on  the  threshold  of  the  door,  the 
emperor  turned  to  him  hastily.  "  I  have  no  desire  what- 
ever  to  have  you  settle  here,"  said  he ;  "  on  the  contrary. 
I  advise  you  not  to  do  so.  Go  to  England.  There  they 
have  a  jpenchcmt  for  Genevese,  parlor-politicians,  etc. ; 
therefore,  go  to  England ;  for  I  must  say,  I  should  be 
rather  ill  than  well  disposed  toward  you ! "  * 

*  Bourrienne,  vol.  viii.,  p.  855. 


MADAME  DE  STALL'S  RETURN  TO  PARIS.        229 
CHAPTER  lY. 


MAnAMTc  DE  Stael  returned  to  her  cherished  France 
with  the  restoration.  She  came  back  thirsting  for  new 
honor  and  renown,  and  determined,  above  all,  to  have  her 
work  republished  in  Germany,  its  publication  having 
been  once  suppressed  by  the  imperial  police.  She  enter- 
tained the  pleasing  hope  that  the  new  court  would  forget 
that  she  was  decker's  daughter,  receive  her  with  open 
arms,  and  accord  her  the  influence  to  which  her  active 
mind  and  genius  entitled  her. 

But  she  was  laboring  under  an  error,  by  which  she 
was  not  destined  to  be  long  deceived.  She  was  received 
at  court  with  the  cold  politeness  which  is  more  terrible 
than  insult.  The  king,  while  speaking  of  her  with  his 
friends,  called  Madame  de  Stael  "a  Chateaubriand  in 
petticoats."  The  Duchess  d'Angouleme  seemed  never  to 
see  the  celebrated  poetess,  and  never  addressed  a  word 
to  her ;  the  rest  of  the  court  met  Madame  de  Stael  armed 
to  the  teeth  with  all  the  hatred  and  prejudices  of  the 
olden  time. 

It  was  also  in  vain  that  Madame  de  Stael  endeavored 
to  act  an  important  part  at  the  new  court ;  they  refused 
to  regard  her  as  an  authority  or  power,  but  treated  her  as 
a  mere  authoress ;  her  counsel  was  ridiculed,  and  they 
dared  even  to  question  the  renown  of  M.  Necker. 

**  I  am  unfortunate,"  said  Madame  de  Stael  to  Countess 


230  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

Ducayla ;  "  Napoleon  hated  me  because  lie  believed  me 
to  possess  intellect ;  these  people  repel  me  because  I  at 
least  possess  ordinary  human  understanding !  I  can  cer- 
tainly get  on  very  well  without  them ;  but,  as  my  pres- 
ence displeases  them,  I  shall,  at  least,  endeavor  to  get  my 
money  from  them." 

The  "  sacred  debt "  had  not  been  paid  under  the  em- 
pire, and  it  was  now  Madame  de  Stael's  intention  to  ob- 
tain from  the  king  what  the  emperor  had  refused. 

She  was  well  aware  of  the  influence  which  Countess 
Ducayla  exercised  over  Louis  XYIII.,  and  she  now 
hastened  to  call  on  the  beautiful  countess — whose  ac- 
quaintance she  had  made  under  peculiar  circumstances,  in 
a  romantic  love  intrigue — in  order  to  renew  the  friend- 
ship they  had  then  vowed  to  each  other. 

The  countess  had  not  forgotten  this  friendship,  and 
she  was  now  grateful  for  the  service  Madame  de  Stael 
had  then  shown  her.  She  helped  to  secure  the  liquida- 
tion of  the  sacred  debt,  and,  upon  the  order  of  King 
Louis,  the  million  was  paid  over  to  Madame  de  Stael. 
"  But,"  says  the  countess,  in  her  memoirs,  "  I  believe  the 
recovery  of  this  million  cost  Madame  de  Stael  four  hun- 
dred thousand  francs,  besides  a  set  of  jewelry  that  was 
worth  at  least  one  hundred  thousand." 

The  countess's  purse  and  the  jewelry  case,  however, 
doubtlessly  bore  evidence  that  she  might  as  well  have 
said  "  I  know  "  as  "  I  believe." 

Besides  the  four  hundred  thousand  francs  and  the 
jewelry,  Madame  de  Stael  also  gave  the  countess  a  piece 


MADAME  DE  STALL'S  RETURN  TO  PARIS.        231 

of  advice.  **  Make  the  most  of  the  favor  you  now  en- 
joy," said  she  to  her ;  "  but  do  so  quickly,  for,  as  mat- 
ters are  now  conducted,  I  fear  that  the  restoration  will 
soon  have  to  be  restored." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ? "  asked  the  countess, 
smiling. 

"  I  mean  that,  with  the  exception  of  the  king,  who 
perhaps  does  not  say  all  he  thinks,  the  others  are  still 
•doing  precisely  as  they  always  have  done,  and  Heaven 
•knows  to  what  extremities  their  folly  is  destined  to  bring 
them  !  They  mock  at  the  old  soldiers  and  assist  the  young 
priests,  and  this  is  the  best  means  of  ruining  France." 

Countess  Ducayla  considered  this  prediction  of  her 
intellectual  friend  as  a  mere  cloud  with  which  discon- 
tent and  disappointed  ambition  had  obscured  the  other- 
wise clear  vision  of  Madame  de  Stael,  and  ridiculed  the 
idea,  little  dreaming  how  soon  her  words  were  to  be 
fulfilled. 

Madame  de  Stael  consoled  herself  for  her  cold  recep- 
tion at  court,  by  receiving  the  best  society  of  Paris  in 
her  parlors,  and  entertaining  them  with  biting  hon  mots 
and  wittj  persiflage,  at  the  expense  of  the  grand  notabili- 
ties, who  had  suddenly  arisen  with  their  imposing  genea- 
logical trees  out  of  the  ruins  and  oblivion  of  the  past. 

Madame  de  Stael  now  also  remembered  the  kindness 
Queen  Hortense  had  shown  her  during  her  exile;  and 
not  to  her  only,  but  also  to  her  friend,  Madame  R^ca- 
mier,  who  had  also  been  exiled  by  Napoleon,  not,  how- 
•ever,  as  his  enemies  said,  "  because  she  was  Madame  de 


232  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

Stael's  friend,"  but  simply  because  she  patronized  and 
belonged  to  the  so-called  "little  church."  The  "little 
church  "  was  an  organization  born  of  the  spirit  of  oppo- 
sition of  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain,  and  a  portion  of 
the  Catholic  clergy,  and  was  one  of  those  things  apper- 
taining to  the  internal  relations  of  France  that  were  most 
annoying  and  disagreeable  to  the  emperor. 

Queen  Hortense  had  espoused  the  cause  of  Madame 
de  Stael  and  of  Madame  Eecamier  with  generoua 
warmth.  She  had  eloquently  interceded  for  the  recall 
of  both  from  their  exile;  and,  now  that  the  course  of 
events  had  restored  them  to  their  home,  both  ladies 
came  to  the  queen  to  thank  her  for  her  kindness  and 
generosity. 

Louise  de  Cochelet  has  described  this  visit  of  Madame 
de  Stael  so  wittily,  with  so  much  naivete,  and  with  such 
peculiar  local  coloring,  that  we  cannot  refrain  from  lay- 
ing a  literal  translation  of  the  same  before  the  reader. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

MADAME   DE   STAEl's   VISIT   TO   QUEEN   H0BTEN8E. 

Louise  de  Cochelet  relates  as  follows :  "  Madame  d©: 
Stael  and  Madame  Recamier  had  begged  permission  of 
the  queen  to  visit  her,  for  the  purpose  of  tendering  their 
thanks.  The  queen  invited  them  to  visit  her  at  St.  Leu, 
on  the  following  day. 


MADAME  DE  STAEL'S  VISIT  TO  QUEEN  HORTENSE.  233 

"  She  asked  my  advice  as  to  which  of  the  meuibers 
of  her  social  circle  were  best  qualified  to  cope  with 
Madame  de  Stael. 

*' '  I,  for  my  part,'  said  the  queen,  *  have  not  the  cour- 
age to  take  the  lead  in  the  conversation ;  one  cannot  be 
very  intellectual  when  sad  at  heart,  and  I  fear  my  dull- 
ness will  infect  the  others.' 

"  We  let  quite  a  number  of  amiable  persons  pass  be- 
fore us  in  review,  and  I  amused  myself  at  the  mention 
of  each  new  name,  by  saying,  *  He  is  too  dull  for  Ma- 
dame de  Stael.' 

"  The  queen  laughed,  and  the  list  of  those  who  were 
to  be  invited  was  at  last  agreed  upon.  "We  all  awaited 
the  arrival  of  the  two  ladies  in  great  suspense.  Tho 
obligation  imposed  on  us  by  the  queen,  of  Ifeing  intel- 
lectual at  all  hazards,  had  the  effect  of  conjuring  up  a 
somewhat  embarrassed  and  stupid  expression  to  our 
faces.  We  presented  the  appearance  of  actors  on  the 
stage  looking  at  each  other,  while  awaiting  the  rise  of 
the  curtain.  Jests  and  hon  mots  followed  each  other  in 
rapid  succession  until  the  arrival  of  the  carriage  recalled 
to  our  faces  an  expression  of  official  earnestness. 

"  Madame  R^camier,  still  young,  and  very  handsome, 
and  with  an  expression  of  naivete  in  her  charming  coun- 
tenance, made  the  impression  on  me  of  being  a  young 
lady  in  love,  carefully  watched  over  by  too  severe  a  diu- 
erma,  her  timid,  gentle  manner  contrasted  so  strongly  with 
the  somewhat  too  masculine  self-consciousness   of  her 

companion.     Madame  de  Stael  is,  however,  generally  ad- 
16 


234  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

mitted  to  have  been  good  and  kind,  particularly  to  thia 
friend,  and  I  only  speak  of  the  impression  she  made  on.: 
one  to  whom  she  was  a  stranger,  at  first  sight. 

"  Madame  de  StaePs  extremely  dark  complexion,  her 
original  toilet,  her  perfectly  bare  shoulders,  of  which 
either  might  have  been  very  beautiful,  but  which  har- 
monized very  poorly  with  each  other ;  her  whole  en- 
serrible  was  far  from  approximating  to  the  standard  of 
the  ideal  I  had  formed  of  the  authoress  of  Delphine  and 
Corinne.  I  had  almost  hoped  to  find  in  her  one  of  the 
heroines  she  had  so  beautifully  portrayed,  and  I  wa* 
therefore  struck  dumb  with  astonishment.  But,  after 
the  first  shock,  I  was  at  least  compelled  to  acknowledge 
that  she  possessed  very  beautiful  and  expressive  eyes ;, 
and  yet  it  leemed  impossible  for  me  to  find  anything  in. 
her  countenance  on  which  love  could  fasten,  although  I 
have  been  told  that  she  has  often  inspired  that  sentiment. 

"When  I  afterward  expressed  my  astonishment  to- 
the  queen,  she  replied :  '  It  is,  perhaps,  because  she  i* 
capable  of  such  great  love  herself,  that  she  succeeds  ia 
inspiring  others  with  love ;  moreover,  it  flatters  a  man'& 
self-love  to  be  noticed  by  such  a  woman,  and,  in  the  endy 
one  can  dispense  with  beauty,  when  one  has  Madame  de: 
Stael's  intellect.' 

"  The  queen  inquired  after  Madame  de  Stael's  daugb- 
ter,  who  had  not  come  with  her,  and  who  was  said  to  be- 
truly  charming.  I  believe  the  young  gentlemen  of  our 
party  could  have  confronted  the  beautiful  eyes  of  the- 
daughter  with  still  greater  amiability  than  those  of  the-. 


MADAME  DE  STALL'S  VISIT  TO  QUEEN  HORTENSE.  235 

mother,  bnt  an  attack  of  toothache  had  prevented  her 
coming. 

"After  the  first  compliments  and  salutations,  the 
queen  proposed  to  the  ladies  to  take  a  look  at  her  park. 
They  seated  themselves  on  the  cushions  of  the  queen's 
large  char  d  banc,  which  has  become  historic  on  account 
of  the  many  high  and  celebrated  personages  who  have 
been  driven  in  it  at  different  times.  The  Emperor  Na- 
poleon was,  however,  not  one  of  this  number,  as  he  never 
visited  St.  Leu ;  but,  with  this  exception,  there  are  few 
of  the  great  and  celebrated  who  have  not  been  seated  in 
it  at  one  time  or  another. 

"  Afl  they  drove  through  the  park  and  the  forest  of 
Montmorency,  in  a  walk  only,  the  conversation  was  kept 
up  as  in  the  parlor,  and  the  consumption  of  intellectuality 
was  continued.  The  beautiful  neighborhood,  that  re- 
minded one  of  Switzerland,  as  it  was  remarked,  was  duly 
admired.  Then  Italy  was  spoken  of.  The  queen,  who 
bad  been  somewhat  distraite,  and  had  good  cause  to  be 
Bomewhat  sad,  and  disposed  to  commune  with  herself, 
addressed  Madame  de  Stael  with  the  question,  *  You  have 
been  in  Italy,  then  ? ' 

"  Madame  de  Stael  was,  as  it  were,  transfixed  with 
dismay,  and  the  gentlemen  exclaimed  with  one  accord : 
*  And  Corinne  ?  and  Corinne  ? ' 

"  *  Ah,  that  is  true,'  said  the  queen,  in  embarrassment, 
awakening,  as  it  were,  from  her  dreams. 

"  *  Is  it  possible,'  asked  M.  de  Canon ville,  *  your  majes- 
ty has  not  read  Corinne  ? ' 


236  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

"  '  Yes — no,'  said  the  queen,  visibly  confused,  *  I  shall 
read  it  again,'  and,  in  order  to  conceal  an  emotion  that  I 
alone  could  understand,  she  abruptly  changed  the  topic  of 
conversation. 

"  She  might  have  said  the  truth,  and  simply  informed 
them  that  the  book  had  appeared  just  at  the  time  her  eld- 
est son  had  died  in  Holland.  The  king,  disquieted  at 
seeing  her  so  profoundly  given  up  to  her  grief,  believed, 
in  accordance  with  Corvisart's  advice,  that  it  was  neces- 
sary to  arouse  her  from  this  state  of  mental  dejection  at 
all  hazards.  It  was  determined  that  I  should  read  '  Co- 
rinne '  to  her.  She  was  not  in  a  condition  to  pay  much 
attention  to  it,  but  she  had  involuntarily  retained  some 
remembrance  of  this  romance.  Since  then,  I  had  several 
times  asked  permission  of  the  queen  to  read  Corinne  to 
her,  but  she  had  always  refused.  '  No,  no,'  said  she,  *  not 
yet ;  this  romance  has  identified  itself  with  my  sorrow. 
Its  name  alone  recalls  the  most  fearful  period  of  my 
whole  life.  I  have  not  yet  the  courage  to  renew  these 
painful  impressions.' 

"  I,  alone,  had  therefore  been  able  to  divine  what  had 
embarrassed  and  moved  the  queen  so  much  when  she  re- 
plied to  the  question  addressed  to  her  concerning  Co- 
rinne. But  the  authoress  could,  of  course,  only  interpret 
it  as  indicating  indifference  for  her  master-work,  and  I 
told  the  queen  on  the  following  day  that  it  would  have 
been  better  to  have  confessed  the  cause  of  her  confusion 
to  Madame  de  Stael. 

"  *  Madame  de  Stael  would  not  have  understood  me,' 


MADAME  DE  STALL'S  VISIT  TO  QUEEN  HORTENSE.  237 

said  she  ;  '  now,  I  am  lost  to  her  good  opinion,  she  will 
consider  me  a  simpleton,  but  it  was  not  the  time  to  speak 
of  myself,  and  of  my  painful  reminiscences.' 

"  The  large  char  a  hanc  was  always  preferred  to  the 
handsomest  carriages  (although  it  was  very  plain,  and 
consisted  of  two  wooden  benches  covered  with  cushiony, 
placed  opposite  each  other),  because  it  was  more  favor- 
able for  conversation.  But  it  afforded  no  security  against 
inclement  weather,  and  this  we  were  soon  to  experience. 
The  rain  poured  in  streams,  and  we  all  returned  to  the 
castle  thoroughly  wet.  A  room  was  there  prepared  and 
offered  the  ladies,  in  which  they  might  repair  the  dis- 
arrangement of  their  toilet  caused  by  the  storm.  I  re- 
mained with  them  long,  kept  there  by  the  questions  of 
Madame  de  Stael  concerning  the  queen  and  her  son, 
which  questions  were  fairly  showered  upon  me.  There 
was  now  no  longer  a  question  of  intellectuality,  but  mere- 
ly of  washing,  hair-dressing,  and  reposing,  with  an  entire 
abandonment  of  the  display  of  mind,  the  copiousness  of 
which  I  had  been  compelled  to  admire  but  a  moment  be- 
fore. I  said  to  myself :  *  There  they  are,  face  to  face,  like 
the  rest  of  the  world,  with  material  life,  these  two  cele- 
brated women,  who  are  everywhere  sought  after,  and 
received  with  such  marked  consideration.  There  they 
are,  as  wet  as  myself,  and  as  little  poetic'  We  were 
really  behind  the  curtain,  but  it  was  shortly  to  rise 
again. 

"  Voices  were  heard  under  the  window ;  among  other 
voices,  a  German  accent  was  audible,  and  both  ladies  im« 


238  QUEEN  HORTBNSE. 

mediately  exclaimed :  *  Ah,  that  is  Prince  Augustus  of 
Prussia ! ' 

"  No  one  expected  the  prince,  and  this  meeting  with 
the  two  ladies  had  therefore  the  appearance  of  being  acci- 
dental. He  had  come  merely  to  pay  the  queen  a  visit, 
and  it  was  so  near  dinner-time,  that  politeness  required 
that  he  should  be  invited  to  remain.  And  this  was  doubt- 
less what  he  wished. 

"  The  prince  had  the  queen  on  his  right,  and  Madame 
de  Stael  on  his  left.  The  servant  of  the  latter  had  laid  a 
little  green  twig  on  her  napkin,  which  she  twisted  be- 
tween her  fingers  while  speaking,  as  was  her  habit.  The 
conversation  was  animated,  and  it  was  amusing  to  observe 
Madame  de  Stael  gesticulating  with  the  little  twig  in  her 
fingers.  One  might  have  supposed  that  some  fairy  had 
given  her  this  talisman,  and  that  her  genius  was  depend- 
ent upon  this  little  twig. 

"  Constantinople,  with  which  city  several  of  the  gen- 
tlemen were  well  acquainted,  was  now  the  topic  of  con- 
versation. Madame  de  Stael  thought  it  would  be  a 
delightful  task  for  an  intellectual  woman,  to  turn  the 
sultan's  head,  and  then  to  compel  him  to  give  his  Turks 
a  constitution.  After  dinner,  freedom  of  the  press  was 
also  a  topic  of  conversation. 

"  Madame  de  Stael  astonished  me,  ifot  only  by  the 
brilliancy  of  her  genius,  but  also  by  the  deep  earnestness 
with  which  she  treated  questions  of  that  kind,  for  until 
tlien  custom  had  not  allowed  women  to  discuss  such  mat- 
ters.    At  entertainments,  philosophy,  morals,  sentiment. 


MADAME  DE  STALL'S  VISIT  TO  QUEEN  HORTENSE.  239 

heroism,  and  the  like,  had  been  the  subjects  of  conversa- 
tion, but  the  emperor  monopolized  politics.  His  era  was 
that  of  actions,  and,  we  may  say  it  with  pride,  of  great 
actions,  while  the  era  that  followed  was  essentially  that 
of  great  words,  and  of  political  and  Kterary  contro- 
versies. 

"  Madame  de  Stael  spoke  to  the  queen  of  her  motto : 
*  Do  that  which  is  right,  happen  what  may.' 

"  *  In  my  exile,  which  you  so  kindly  endeavored  to 
terminate,'  said  she,  *  I  often  repeated  this  motto,  and 
thought  of  you  while  doing  so.' 

"  While  speaking  thus,  her  countenance  was  illumined 
by  the  reflection  of  inward  emotion,  and  I  found  her 
beautiful.  She  was  no  longer  the  woman  of  mind  only, 
but  also  the  woman  of  heart  and  feeling,  and  I  com- 
prehended at  this  moment  how  charming  she  could  be. 

"Afterward,  she  had  a  long  conversation  with  the 
queen  touching  the  emperor.  ^Why  was  he  so  angry 
with  me  ? '  asked  she.  *  He  could  not  have  known  how 
much  I  admired  him  I  I  will  see  him — I  shall  go  to 
Elba!  Do  you  think  he  would  receive  me  well?  I 
was  born  to  worship  this  man,  and  he  has  repelled  me.' 

"  *  Ah,  madame,'  replied  the  queen,  *  I  have  often  heard 
the  emperor  say  that  he  had  a  great  mission  to  fulfil,  and 
that  he  could  compare  his  labors  with  the  exertions  of  a 
man  who,  having  the  summit  of  a  steep  mountain  ever 
before  his  eyes,  strains  every  nerve  to  attain  it,  ever  toil- 
ing painfully  upward,  and  allowing  his  progress  to  be 
arrested  by  no  obstacle  whatever.    "  All  the  worse  for 


240  QUEEN  HOKTENSB. 

those,"  said  lie,  "  who  meet  me  on  mj  course — I  can  show 
them  no  consideration." ' 

" '  You  met  him  on  his  course,  madame ;  perhaps  he 
would  have  extended  you  a  helping  hand,  after  having 
reached  the  summit  of  his  mountain.' 

" '  I  must  speak  with  him,'  said  Madame  de  Stael ;  *  I 
have  been  injured  in  his  opinion.' 

"  *  I  think  so  too,'  replied  the  queen,  ^  but  you  would 
judge  him  ill,  if  you  considered  him  capable  of  hating 
any  one.  He  believed  you  to  be  his  enemy,  and  he 
feared  you,  which  was  something  very  unusual  for  him,' 
added  she,  with  a  smile.  *  E"ow  that  he  is  unfortunate, 
you  will  show  yourself  his  friend,  and  prove  yourself  to 
be  such,  and  I  am  satisfied  that  he  will  receive  you 
well.' 

"  Madame  de  Stael  also  occupied  herself  a  great  deal 
with  the  young  princes,  but  she  met  with  worse  success 
with  them  than  with  us.  It  was  perhaps  in  order  to 
judge  of  their  mental  capacity,  that  she  showered  unsuit- 
able questions  upon  them. 

"  *  Do  you  love  your  uncle  ? ' 

"  *  Yery  much,  madame  ! ' 

"  *  And  will  you  also  be  as  fond  of  war  as  he  is  ? ' 

"  *  Yes,  if  it  did  not  cause  so  much  misery.' 

"  *  Is  it  true  that  he  often  made  you  repeat  a  fable 
commencing  with  the  words,  "  The  strongest  is  always  in 
the  right  ?  "  ' 

" '  Madame,  he  often  made  us  repeat  fables,  but  this 
one  not  oftener  than  any  other.' 


THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  ERA.  241 

"  Young  Prince  Napoleon,  a  boy  of  astounding  men- 
tal capacity  and  precocious  judgment,  answered  all  these 
questions  with  the  greatest  composure,  and,  at  the  con- 
clusion of  this  examination,  turned  to  me  and  said  quite 
audibly :  *  This  lady  asks  a  great  many  questions.  Is 
that  what  you  call  being  intellectual  ? ' 

"  After  the  departure  of  our  distinguished  visitors, 
we  all  indulged  in  an  expression  of  opinion  concerning 
them,  and  young  Prince  Napoleon  was  the  one  upon 
whom  the  ladies  had  made  the  least  flattering  impres- 
sion, but  he  only  ventured  to  intimate  as  much  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  I  for  my  part  had  been  more  dazzled  than  glad- 
dened by  this  visit.  One  could  not  avoid  admiring  this 
genius  in  spite  of  its  inconsiderateness,  and  its  wander- 
ings, but  there  was  nothing  pleasing,  nothing  graceful  and 
womanly,  in  Madame  de  StaePs  manner."  * 


CHAPTEK  YI. 

THE   OLD   AND   THE   NEW   EBA. 

The  restoration  was  accomplished.  The  allies  had  at 
last  withdrawn  from  the  kingdom,  and  Louis  XYIII.  waa 
now  the  independent  ruler  of  France.  In  him,  in  the  re- 
turned members  of  his  family,  and  in  the  emigrants  who 
were  pouring  into  the  country  from  all   quarters,  waa 

*  Cochelet,  M^moires  sur  la  Reine  Hortense,  voL  i.,  pp.  429-440. 


242  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

represented  the  old  era  of  France,  the  era  of  despotic 
royal  power,  of  brilliant  manners,  of  intrigues,  of  aristo- 
cratic ideas,  of  ease  and  luxury.  Opposed  to  them  stood 
the  France  of  the  new  era,  the  generation  formed  by 
j^apoleon  and  the  revolution,  the  new  aristocracy,  who 
possessed  no  other  ancestors  than  merit  and  valorous 
deeds,  an  aristocracy  that  had  nothing  to  relate  of  the 
wil  de  hcBuf  and  the  jpetites  ma/lsons,  but  an  aristocracy 
that  could  tell  of  the  battle-field  and  of  the  hospitals  in 
which  their  wounds  had  been  healed. 

These  two  parties  stood  opposed  to  each  other. 

Old  and  young  France  now  carried  on  an  hourly,  con- 
tinuous warfare  at  the  court  of  Louis  XYIII.,  with  this 
difference,  however,  that  young  France,  hitherto  ever 
victorious,  now  experienced  a  continuous  series  of  re- 
verses and  humiliations.  Old  France  was  now  victorious. 
Not  victorious  through  its  gallantry  and  merit,  but 
through  its  past,  which  it  endeavored  to  connect  with 
the  present,  without  considering  the  chasm  which  lay 
between. 

True,  King  Louis  had  agreed,  in  the  treaty  of  the 
11th  of  April,  that  none  of  his  subjects  should  be  de- 
prived of  their  titles  and  dignities ;  and  the  new  dukes, 
princes,  marshals,  counts,  and  barons,  could  therefore  ap- 
pear at  court,  but  they  played  but  a  sad  and  humiliating 
rdle,  and  they  were  made  to  feel  that  they  were  only 
tolerated,  and  not  welcome. 

The  gentlemen  who,  before  the  revolution,  had  been 
entitled  to  seats  in  the  royal  equipages,  still  retained  this 


THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  ERA.  243 

privilege,  but  the  doors  of  these  equipages  were  never 
opened  to  the  gentlemen  of  the  new  Napoleonic  nobility. 
"  The  ladies  of  the  old  era  still  retained  their  tahourety 
as  well  as  their  grand  and  little  entree  to  the  Tuileries 
and  the  Louvre,  and  it  would  have  been  considered  very 
arrogant  if  the  duchesses  of  the  new  era  had  made  claim 
to  similar  honors." 

It  was  the  Duchess  d'Angouleme  who  took  the  lead 
and  set  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  an  example  of  intoler- 
ance and  arrogant  pretensions  in  ignoring  the  empire. 
She  was  the  most  unrelenting  enemy  of  the  new  era, 
born  of  the  revolution,  and  of  its  representatives ;  it  is 
true,  however,  that  she,  who  was  the  daughter  of  the 
beheaded  royal  pair,  and  who  had  herself  so  long  lan- 
guished in  the  Temple,  had  been  familiar  with  the  horrors 
of  the  revolution  in  their  saddest  and  most  painful  fea- 
tures. She  now  determined,  as  she  could  no  longer  pun- 
ish, to  at  least  forget  this  era,  and  to  seem  to  be  entirely 
oblivious  of  its  existence. 

At  one  of  the  first  dinners  given  by  the  king  to  the 
allies,  the  Duchess  d'Angouleme,  who  sat  next  to  the 
King  of  Bavaria,  pointed  to  the  Grand-duke  of  Baden, 
and  asked :  "  Is  not  this  the  prince  who  married  a  prin- 
cess of  Bonaparte's  making?  What  weakness  to  ally 
one's  self  in  such  a  manner  with  that  general ! " 

The  duchess  did  not  or  would  not  remember  that  the 
King  of  Bavaria,  as  well  as  the  Emperor  of  Austria, 
who  sat  on  her  other  side,  and  could  well  hear  her  worda, 
had  also  allied  themselves  with  General  Bonaparte. 


244  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

After  she  had  again  installed  herself  in  the  rooms  she 
had  formerly  occupied  in  the  Tuileries,  the  duchess  asked 
old  Dubois,  who  had  formerly  tuned  her  piano,  and 
had  retained  this  office  under  the  empire,  and  who  now 
showed  her  the  new  and  elegant  instruments  provided  by 
Josephine — she  asked  him:  "What  has  become  of  my 
piano  ? " 

This  "piano  "  had  been  an  old  and  worn-out  concern, 
and  the  duchess  was  surprised  at  not  finding  it,  as  though 
almost  thirty  years  had  not  passed  since  she  had  seen  it 
last;  as  though  the  10th  of  August,  1792,  the  day  on 
which  the  populace  demolished  the  Tuileries,  had  never 
been ! 

But  the  period  from  1795  to  1814  was  ignored  on 
principle,  and  the  Bourbons  seemed  really  to  have  quite 
forgotten  that  more  than  one  night  lay  between  the  last 
levee  of  King  Louis  XYI.  and  the  levee  of  to-day  of 
King  Louis  XYIIL  They  seemed  astonished  that  per- 
sons they  had  known  as  children  had  grown  up  since 
they  last  saw  them,  and  insisted  on  treating  every  one  as 
they  had  done  in  1789. 

After  the  Empress  Josephine's  death.  Count  d'Artois 
paid  a  visit  to  Malmaison,  a  place  that  had  hardly  existed 
before  the  revolution,  and  which  owed  its  creation  to 
Josephine's  love  and  taste  for  art. 

The  empress,  who  had  a  great  fondness  for  botany, 
had  caused  magnificent  greenhouses  to  be  erected  at  Mai 
maison ;  in  these  all  the  plants  and  flowers  of  the  world 
had  been  collected.     Knowing  her  taste,  all  the  princes 


THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  ERA.  245 

of  Europe  had  sent  her,  in  the  days  of  her  grandeur,  in 
order  to  afford  her  a  moment's  gratification,  the  rarest 
exotics.  The  Prince  Regent  of  England  had  even  found 
means,  during  the  war  with  France,  to  send  her  a  number 
of  rare  West-Indian  plants.  In  this  manner  her  collection 
had  become  the  richest  and  most  complete  in  all  Europe. 

Count  d'Artois,  as  above  said,  had  come  to  Malmai- 
flon  to  view  this  celebrated  place  of  sojourn  of  Josephine, 
and,  while  being  conducted  through  the  greenhouses,  he 
exclaimed,  as  though  he  recognized  his  old  flowers  of 
1789  :  "  Ah,  here  are  our  plants  of  Trianon  I " 

And,  like  their  masters  the  Bourbons,  the  emigrants 
had  also  returned  to  France  with  the  same  ideas  with 
which  they  had  fled  the  country.  They  endeavored,  in 
all  their  manners,  habits,  and  pretensions,  to  begin  again 
precisely  where  they  had  left  off  in  1789.  They  had 
80  lively  an  appreciation  of  their  own  merit,  that  they 
took  no  notice  whatever  of  other  people's,  and  yet  their 
greatest  merit  consisted  in  having  emigrated. 

For  this  merit  they  now  demanded  a  reward. 

All  of  these  returned  emigrants  demanded  rewards, 
positions,  and  pensions,  and  considered  it  incomprehensi- 
ble that  those  who  were  already  in  possession  were  not  at 
once  deprived  of  them.  Intrigues  were  the  order  of  the 
day,  and  in  general  the  representatives  of  the  old  era 
succeeded  in  supplanting  those  of  the  new  era  in  oflSces 
and  pensions  as  well  as  in  court  honors.  All  the  high 
positions  in  the  army  were  filled  by  the  marquises, 
dukes,  and   counts,    of  the   old    era,  who   had    sewed 


246  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

tapestry  and  picked  silk  in  Coblentz,  while  the  France 
of  the  new  era  was  fighting  on  the  battle-field,  and  they 
now  began  to  teach  the  soldiers  of  the  empire  the  old 
driU  of  1780. 

The  etiquette  of  the  olden  time  was  restored,  and 
the  same  luxurious  and  lascivious  disposition  prevailed 
among  these  cavaliers  of  the  former  century  which  had 
been  approved  in  the  ceil  de  hmuf  and  in  ih.Q  j[>etites  moA^ 
sons  of  the  old  era. 

These  old  cavaliers  felt  contempt  for  the  young 
Frenchmen  of  the  new  era  on  account  of  their  pedantic 
morality ;  they  scornfully  regarded  men  who  perhaps 
had  not  more  than  one  mistress,  and  to  whom  the  wife 
of  a  friend  was  so  sacred,  that  they  never  dared  to  ap 
proach  her  with  a  disrespectful  thought  even. 

These  legitimist  gentlemen  entertained  themselves 
chiefly  with  reflections  over  the  past,  and  their  own 
grandeur.  In  the  midst  of  the  many  new  things  by 
which  they  were  surrounded,  some  of  which  they  unfor- 
tunately found  it  impossible  to  ignore,  it  was  their  sweet- 
est relaxation  to  give  themselves  up  entirely  to  the  re- 
membrance of  the  old  regime^  and  when  they  spoke  of 
this  era,  they  forgot  their  age  and  debility,  and  were 
once  more  the  young  roues  oi  the  ml  de  hmuf. 

Once  in  the  antechamber  of  King  Louis  XYIII., 
while  the  Marquis  de  Chimene  and  the  Duke  de  Laura- 
guais,  two  old  heroes  of  the  frivolous  era,  in  which  the 
boudoir  and  the^^^^^^  maisons  were  the  battle-field,  and 
the  myrtle  instead  of  the  laurel  the  reward  of  victory, 


THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  ERA.  247 

while  these  gentlemen  were  conversing  of  some  occur' 
rence  under  the  old  government,  the  Duke  de  Laura- 
gnais,  in  order  to  more  nearly  fix  the  date  of  the  occur- 
rence of  which  they  were  speaking,  remarked  to  the  mar' 
quis,  "  It  was  in  the  year  in  which  I  had  my  liaison  with 
your  wife." 

"Ah,  yes,"  replied  the  marquis,  with  perfect  com- 
posure, "  that  was  in  the  year  1776." 

Neither  of  the  gentlemen  found  anything  strange  in 
this  allusion  to  the  past.  The  liaison  in  question  had 
been  a  perfectly  commonplace  matter,  and  it  would  have 
been  as  ridiculous  in  the  duke  to  deny  it  as  for  the  mar- 
quis to  have  shown  any  indignation. 

The  wisest  and  most  enlightened  of  all  these  gentle- 
men was  their  head,  King  Louis  XVIII.  himself. 

He  was  well  aware  of  the  errors  of  those  who  sur- 
rounded him,  and  placed  but  little  confidence  in  the  rep- 
resentatives of  the  old  court.  But  he  was  nevertheless 
powerless  to  withdraw  himself  from  their  influence,  and 
after  he  had  accorded  the  people  the  charter,  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  will  and  opinion  of  the  whole  royal  family, 
of  his  whole  court  and  of  his  ministers,  and  had  sworn 
to  support  it  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  "  Monsieur " 
and  the  Prince  de  Conde,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  call- 
ing the  charter  "  Mademoiselle  la  Constitution  de  1791^'* 
Louis  withdrew  to  the  retirement  of  his  apartments  in 
the  Tuileries,  and  left  his  minister  Blacas  to  attend  to 
the  little  details  of  government,  the  king  deeming  the 
great  ones  only  worthy  of  his  attention. 


248  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

CHAPTEK  YII. 

KING   LOUIS   XVIII. 

King  Louis  XYIII.  was,  however,  in  the  retirement 
of  his  palace,  still  the  most  enlightened  and  unprejudiced 
of  the  representatives  of  the  old  era ;  he  clearly  saw  many 
things  to  which  hh  advisers  purposely  closed  their  eyes. 
To  his  astonishment,  he  observed  that  the  men  who  had 
risen  to  greatness  under  Bonaparte,  and  who  had  fallen 
to  the  king  along  with  the  rest  of  his  inheritance,  were 
not  so  ridiculous,  awkward,  and  foolish,  as  they  had  been 
represented  to  be. 

"  I  had  been  made  to  suppose,"  said  Louis  XYIIL, 
"  that  these  generals  of  Bonaparte  were  peasants  and  ruf- 
fians, but  such  is  not  the  case.  He  schooled  these  men 
well.  They  are  polite,  and  quite  as  shrewd  as  the  rep- 
resentatives of  the  old  court.  "We  must  conduct  ourselves 
very  cautiously  toward  them." 

This  kind  of  recognition  of  the  past  which  sometimes 
escaped  Louis  XYIIL,  was  a  subject  of  bitter  displeasure 
to  the  gentlemen  of  the  old  era,  and  they  let  the  king  per- 
ceive it. 

King  Louis  felt  this,  and,  in  order  to  conciliate  his 
court,  he  often  saw  himself  compelled  to  humiliate  "  the 
pa/rvenu8^^  who  had  forced  themselves  among  the  for- 
mer. 

Incessant  quarrelling  and  intriguing  within  the  Tuil- 
eries  was  the  consequence,  and  Louis  was  often  dejected, 


KING  LOUIS  XVIII.  249 

uneasy,  and  angry,  in  the  midst  of  the  splendor  that  sur* 
rounde(^  ^lim. 

"  I  am  angry  with  myself  and  the  others,"  said  he  on 
one  occasion  to  an  intimate  friend.  "  An  invisible  and 
secret  power  is  ever  working  in  opposition  to  my  will, 
frustrating  my  plans,  and  paralyzing  my  authority." 

"  And  yet  you  are  king  !  " 

"  Undoubtedly  I  am  king  !  "  exclaimed  Louis,  angri- 
ly ;  "  but  am  I  also  master  ?  The  king  is  he  who  all  his 
life  long  receives  ambassadors,  gives  tiresome  audiences, 
listens  to  annihilating  discourses,  goes  in  state  to  Notre- 
Dame,  dines  in  public  once  a  year,  and  is  pompously 
buried  in  St.  Denis  when  he  dies.  The  master  is  he  who 
commands  and  can  enforce  obedience,  who  puts  an  end 
to  intriguing,  and  can  silence  old  women  as  well  as 
priests.  Bonaparte  was  king  and  master  at  the  same 
time !  His  ministers  were  his  clerks,  the  kings  hig 
brothers  merely  his  agents,  and  his  courtiers  nothing 
more  than  his  servants.  His  ministers  vied  with  his  sen- 
ate in  servility,  and  his  Corps  LegislaUf  sought  to  out- 
do his  senate  and  the  church  in  subserviency.  He  was 
an  extraordinary  and  an  enviable  man,  for  he  had  not 
only  devoted  servants  and  faithful  friends,  but  also  an 
accommodating  church."  * 

King  Louis  XVIIL,  weary  of  the  incessant  intrigues 
with  which  his  courtiers  occupied  themselves,  withdrew 
himself  more  and  more  into  the  retirement  of  his  palace, 
and  left  the  affairs  ot  state  to  the  care  of  M.  de  Blacas, 

•  M^moires  d'une  P;Bmme  de  Quality,  toL  t.,  p.  86. 
17 


250  QUEEN  HOJRTENSE. 

who,  with  all  his  arrogance  and  egotism,  knew  very  little 
about  governing. 

The  king  preferred  to  entertain  himself  with  his 
friends,  to  read  them  portions  of  his  memoirs,  to  afford 
them  an  opportunity  of  admiring  his  verses,  and  to  regale 
them  with  his  witty  and  not  always  chaste  anecdotes  ;  he 
preferred  all  these  things  to  tedious  and  useless  disputes 
with  his  ministers.  He  had  given  his  people  the  charter^ 
and  his  ministers  might  now  govern  in  accordance  with 
this  instrument. 

"  The  people  demand  liberty,"  said  the  king.  "  I  give 
them  enough  of  it  to  protect  them  against  despotism,  with- 
out according  them  unbridled  license.  Formerly,  the 
taxes  appointed  by  my  mere  will  would  have  made  me 
odious ;  now  the  people  tax  themselves.  Hereafter,  I 
have  nothing  to  do  but  to  confer  benefits  and  show 
mercy,  for  the  responsibility  for  all  the  evil  that  is  done 
will  rest  entirely  with  my  ministers."  * 

While  his  ministers  were  thus  governing  according  to 
the  charter,  and  "  doing  evil,"  the  king,  who  now  had 
nothing  but  "  good "  to  do,  was  busying  himseK  in  set 
tling  the  weighty  questions  of  the  old  etiquette. 

One  of  the  most  important  features  of  this  etiquette 
was  the  question  of  the  fashions  that  should  now  be  intro- 
duced at  court ;  for  it  was,  of  course,  absurd  to  think  of 
adopting  the  fashions  of  the  empire,  and  thereby  recog- 
nize at  court  that  there  had  really  been  a  change  sinca 
1789. 

*  Memoires  d'une  Femme  de  Qualite,  vol.  i.,  p.  410. 


KING  LOUIS  XVIIL  251 

They  desired  to  effect  a  counter-revolution,  not  only 
in  politics,  but  also  in  fashions ;  and  this  important  mat- 
ter occupied  the  attention  of  the  grand  dignitaries  of  the 
court  for  weeks  before  the  first  grand  levee  that  the  king 
was  to  hold  in  the  Tuileries.  But,  as  nothing  was  accom- 
plished by  their  united  wisdom,  the  king  finally  held  a 
private  consultation  with  his  most  intimate  gentleman 
and  lady  friends  on  this  important  matter,  that  had,  un- 
fortunately, not  been  determined  by  the  charter. 

The  grand-master  of  ceremonies,  M.  de  Breg6,  de- 
clared to  the  king  that  it  was  altogether  improper  to  con- 
tinue the  fashions  of  the  empire  at  the  court  of  the  legiti- 
mate King  of  France. 

"We  are,  therefore,  to  have  powder,  coats-of-mail, 
etc.,"  observed  the  king. 

M.  de  Breg6  replied,  with  all  gravity,  that  he  had 
given  this  subject  his  earnest  consideration  day  and 
night,  but  that  he  had  not  yet  arrived  at  a  conclusion 
worthy  of  the  grand-master  of  ceremonies  of  the  legiti- 
mate king. 

"  Sire,"  said  the  Duke  de  Chartres,  smiling,  "  I,  for 
my  part,  demand  knee-breeches,  shoe-buckles,  and  the 
cue." 

"  But  I,"  exclaimed  the  Prince  de  Poir,  who  had  re- 
mained in  France  during  the  empire,  "  I  demand  dam- 
ages, if  we  are  to  be  compelled  to  return  to  the  old  fash- 
ions and  clothing  before  the  new  ones  are  worn  out ! " 

The  grand-master  of  ceremonies  replied  to  this  jest  at 
bis  expense  with  a  profound  sigh  only  ;  and  the  king  at 


252  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

last  put  an  end  to  this  great  question,  by  deciding  that 
every  one  should  be  permitted  to  follow  the  old  or  new 
fashions,  according  to  his  individual  taste  and  inclination. 

The  grand-master  of  ceremonies  was  compelled  to 
submit  to  this  royal  decision ;  but  in  doing  so  he  ob- 
served, with  profound  sadness :  "  Your  majesty  is  pleased 
to  smile,  but  dress  makes  half  the  man  ;  uniformity  of 
attire  confounds  the  distinctions  of  rank,  and  leads  direct- 
ly to  an  agrarian  law." 

"  Yes,  marquis,"  exclaimed  the  king,  "  you  think  pre- 
cisely as  Figaro.  Many  a  man  laughs  at  a  judge  in  a 
short  dress,  who  trembles  before  a  procurator  in  a  long 
gown."  * 

But  while  the  king  suppressed  the  counter-revolution 
in  fashions,  he  allowed  the  grand-master  of  ceremonies  to 
reintroduce  the  entire  etiquette  of  the  old  era.     In  con- 
formity with  this  etiquette,  the  king  could  not  rise  from 
his  couch  in  the   morning   until    the   doors  had   been 
opened  to  all  those  who  had  the  grande  entree — that  is  to 
say,  to  the  officers  of  his   household,  the  marshals  of , 
France,  several  favored  ladies;  further,  to  his  cafetier,^ 
his  tailor,  the  bearer  of  his  slippers,  his  barber,  with  two  i 
assistants,  his  watchmaker,  and  his  apothecaries. 

The  king  was  dressed  in  the  presence  of  all  these 
favored  individuals,  etiquette  permitting  him  only  to 
adjust  his  necktie  himself,  but  requiring  him,  however, 
to  empty  his  pockets  of  their  contents  of  the  previous 
day. 

*  Memoires  d'une  Femme  de  Qualite,  toL  i,  p.  384. 


KING  LOUIS  XVIII.  263 

The  usage  of  the  old  era,  "  the  public  dinner  of  the 
loyal  family,"  was  also  reintroduced  ;  and  the  grand- 
master of  ceremonies  not  only  found  it  necessary  to  make 
prepai-ations  for  this  dinner  weeks  beforehand,  but  the 
king  was  also  compelled  to  occupy  himself  with  this  mat- 
ter, and  to  appoint  for  this  great  ceremony  the  necessary 
**  officers  of  provisions  " — that  is  to  say,  the  wine-taster, 
the  cup-bearers,  the  grand  doorkeepers,  and  the  cook-in- 
<jhief. 

At  this  first  grand  public  dinner,  the  celebrated  and 
indispensable  "  ship "  of  the  royal  board  stood  again 
immediately  in  front  of  the  king's  seat.  This  old  "  ship  " 
of  the  royal  board,  an  antique  work  of  art  which  the  city 
of  Paris  had  once  presented  to  a  King  of  France,  had 
also  been  lost  in  the  grand  shipwreck  of  1792,  and  the 
grand-master  of  ceremonies  had  been  compelled  to  have  a 
new  one  made  by  the  court  jeweller  for  the  occasion. 
This  "  ship  "  was  a  work  in  gilded  silver,  in  form  of  a 
vessel  deprived  of  its  masts  and  rigging ;  and  in  the  same, 
between  two  golden  plates,  were  contained  the  perfumed 
napkins  of  the  king.  In  accordance  with  the  old  etiquette, 
no  one,  not  even  the  princes  and  princesses,  could  pass 
the  "  ship  "  without  making  a  profound  obeisance,  which 
they  were  also  compelled  to  make  on  passing  the  royal 
couch. 

The  king  restored  yet  unotlier  fashion  of  the  old  era 
^-the  fashion  of  the  "  royal  lady-friends." 

Like  his  brother  the  Count  d'Artois,  Louis  XVIII. 
fdso  had  his  lady-friends ;  and  among  these  the  beautiful 


254  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

and  witty  Countess  Ducajla  occupied  the  first  position. 
It  was  her  office  to  amuse  the  king,  and  dissipate  the 
dark  clouds  that  were  only  too  often  to  be  seen  on  the 
brow  of  King  Louis,  who  was  chained  to  his  arm-chair 
by  ill-health,  weakness,  and  excessive  corpulency.  She 
narrated  to  him  the  chronique  scandaleuse  of  the  im- 
perial court ;  she  reminded  him  of  the  old  affairs  of  his 
youth,  which  the  king  knew  how  to  relate  with  so 
much  wit  and  humor,  and  which  he  so  loved  to  relate ;. 
it  devolved  upon  her  to  examine  the  letters  of  the 
*'  black  cabinet,"  and  to  read  the  more  interesting  ones 
to  the  king. 

King  Louis  was  not  ungrateful  to  his  royal  friend,, 
and  he  rewarded  her  in  a  truly  royal  manner  for  some- 
times banishing  ennui  from  his  apartments.  Finding 
that  the  countess  had  no  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
contents  of  the  Bible,  he  gave  her  the  splendid  Bible  of 
Royaumont,  ornamented  with  one  hundred  and  fifty 
magnificent  engravings,  after  paintings  of  Raphael.  In- 
stead of  tissue-paper,  a  thousand-franc  note  covered  each 
of  these  engravings.* 

On  another  occasion,  the  king  gave  her  a  copy  of  the 
"  Charter ; "  and  in  this  each  leaf  was  also  covered  with 
a  thousand-franc  note,  as  in  the  Bible. 

For  so  many  proofs  of  the  royal  generosity,  the  beau- 
tiful countess,  perhaps  willingly,  submitted  to  be  called 
"  the  royal  snuff-box,"  which  appellation  had  its  origin  in 

*  Amours  et  Galanteries  des  Rois  de  France,  par  St.  Edme,  vol.  ii.,. 
p.  383.    Memoires  d'une  Femme  de  Qualite,  voL  i.,  p.  409. 


DRAWING-ROOM  OF   THE  DUCHESS  OF  ST.  LEU.    255 

the  habit  which  tlie  king  fondly  indulged  in  of  strewing 
snuff  on  the  countess's  lovely  shoulder,  and  then  snuffing 
it  up  with  his  nose. 


CHAPTER  YIII. 

THE   DRA.WINQ-B00M   OF  THE   DUCHESS   OF   ST.    LETT. 

While  the  etiquette  and  frivolity  of  the  old  era  were 
being  introduced  anew  at  the  Tuileries,  and  while  M.  de 
Blacas  was  governing  in  complacent  recklessness,  time 
was  progressing,  notwithstanding  his  endeavors  to  turn  it 
backward  in  his  flight. 

While,  out  of  the  incessant  conflict  between  the  old 
and  the  new  France,  a  discontented  France  was  being 
bom,  Napoleon,  the  Emperor  of  Elba,  was  forming  great 
plans  of  conquest,  and  preparing  in  secret  understanding 
with  the  faithful,  to  leave  his  place  of  exile  and  return 
to  France. 

He  well  knew  that  he  could  rely  on  his  old  army — 
on  the  army  who  loudly  cried,  "  Vi/ve  le  roi  !  "  and  then 
added,  boUo  voce,  "  de  Rome,  et  son  petit  papa  !  "  * 

Hortense,  the  new  Duchess  of  St.  Leu,  took  but  little 
part  in  all  these  things.  She  had,  notwithstanding  her 
youth  and  beauty,  in  a  measure  taken  leave  of  the  world. 
She  felt  herself  to  be  no  longer  the  woman,  but  only  the 
mother ;  her  sons  were  the  objects  of  all  her  tenderness 
and  love,  and  she  lived  for  them  only.     In  her  retire- 

•  Cochelet,  M^moires  sur  la  Reine  Hortense,  vol.  iii.»  p.  121. 


256  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

ment  at  St.  Leu,  her  time  was  devoted  to  the  arts,  to 
reading,  and  to  study ;  and,  after  having  been  thus  occu- 
pied throughout  the  day,  she  passed  the  evening  in  her 
drawing-room,  in  unrestrained  intellectual  conversation 
with  her  friends. 

For  she  had  friends  who  had  remained  true,  notwith- 
standing the  obscurity  into  which  she  had  withdrawn 
herself,  and  who,  although  they  filled  important  positions 
at  the  new  court,  had  retained  their  friendship  for  the 
solitary  dethroned  queen. 

"With  these  friends  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu  conversed, 
in  the  evening,  in  her  parlor,  of  the  grand  and  beautiful 
past,  giving  themselves  up  entirely  to  these  recollections, 
little  dreaming  that  this  harmless  relaxation  could  awaken 
suspicion. 

For  the  Duke  of  Otranto,  who  had  succeeded  in  his 
shrewdness  in  retaining  his  position  of  minister  of  police, 
as  well  under  Louis  XYIII.  as  under  ]N"apoleon,  had  his 
spies  everywhere ;  he  knew  of  all  that  was  said  in  every 
parlor  of  Paris ;  he  knew  also  that  it  was  the  custom,  in 
the  parlors  of  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu,  to  look  from  the 
dark  present  back  at  the  brilliant  past,  and  to  console 
one's  self  for  the  littleness  of  the  present,  with  the  recol- 
lection of  the  grandeur  of  departed  days !  And  Fouche, 
or  rather  the  Duke  of  Otranto,  knew  how  to  utilize 
everything. 

In  order  to  arouse  Minister  Blacas  out  of  his  stupid 
dream  of  security,  to  a  realizing  sense  of  the  grave 
events  that  were  taking  place,  Fouche  told  him  that  a 


DRAWING-ROOM  OF  THE  DUCHESS  OF  ST.  LEU.    257 

conspiracy  against  the  government  was  being  formed  in 
the  parlors  of  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu ;  that  all  those  who 
were  secret  adherents  of  Bonaparte  were  in  the  habit  of 
assembling  there,  and  planning  the  deliverance  of  the 
emperor  from  Elba.  In  order,  however,  on  the  other 
hand,  to  provide  against  the  possibility  of  Napoleon's 
return,  the  Duke  of  Otranto  hastened  to  the  Duchess  of 
St.  Leu,  to  warn  her  and  conjure  her  to  be  on  her  guard 
against  the  spies  by  whom  she  was  surrounded,  as  sus- 
picion might  be  easily  excited  against  her  at  court. 

Hortense  paid  no  attention  to  this  warning ;  she  con- 
sidered precaution  imnecessary,  and  was  not  willing  to 
deprive  herself  of  her  one  happiness — that  of  seeing  her 
friends,  and  of  conversing  with  them  in  a  free  and  un- 
constrained manner. 

The  parlors  of  the  duchess,  therefore,  continued  to  be 
thrown  open  to  her  faithful  friends,  who  had  also  been 
the  faithful  servants  of  the  emperor ;  and  the  Dukes  of 
Bassano,  of  Friaul,  of  Kagusa,  of  the  Moskwa,  and  their 
wives,  as  well  as  the  gallant  Charles  de  Labedoy^re,  and 
the  acute  Count  Kegnault  de  Saint-Jean  d'Angely,  still 
continued  to  meet  in  the  parlors  of  the  Duchess  of  St. 
Leu. 

The  voice  of  hostility  was  raised  against  them  with 
ever-increasing  hostility ;  the  reunions  that  took  place  at 
St.  Leu  were  day  by  day  portrayed  at  the  Tuileries  in 
more  hateful  colors;  and  the  poor  duchess,  who  lived  in 
sorrow  and  retirement  in  her  apartments,  became  an  ob- 
ject of  hatred  and  envy  to  these  proud  ladies  of  the  old 


268  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

aristocracy,  who  were  unable  to  comprehend  how  this 
woman  could  be  thought  of  while  they  were  near,  al- 
though she  had  been  the  ornament  of  the  imperial  court, 
and  who  was  considered  amiable,  intellectual,  and  beauti- 
ful, even  under  the  legitimate  dynasty. 

Hortense  heard  of  the  ridiculous  and  malicious  re- 
ports which  had  been  circulated  concerning  her,  and,  for 
the  sake  of  her  friends  and  sons,  she  resolved  to  put  an 
end  to  them. 

"  I  must  leave  my  dear  St.  Leu  and  go  to  Paris,"  said 
she.  "  There  they  can  better  observe  all  my  actions. 
Keason  demands  that  I  should  conform  myself  to  circum- 
stances." 

She  therefore  abandoned  her  quiet  home  at  St.  Leu, 
and  repaired  with  her  children  and  her  court  to  Paris, 
to  again  take  up  her  abode  in  her  dwelling  in  the  Kue 
de  la  Yictoire. 

But  this  step  gave  fresh  fuel  to  the  calumnies  of  her 
enemies,  who  saw  in  her  the  embodied  remembrance  of 
the  empire  which  they  hated  and  at  the  same  time  feared. 

The  Bonapartists  still  continued  their  visits  to  her 
parlors,  as  before;  and  no  appeals,  no  representations 
could  induce  Hortense  to  close  her  doors  against  her 
faithful  friends,  for  fear  that  their  fidelity  might  excite 
suspicion  against  herself. 

In  order,  however,  to  contradict  the  report  that  ad- 
herents of  Kapoleon  only  were  in  the  habit  of  frequent- 
ing her  parlors,  the  duchess  also  extended  the  hospitali- 
ties of  her  parlors  to  the  strangers  who  brought  letters  of 


DRAWING-ROOM  OF  THE  DUCHESS  OF  ST.  LEU.  259 

recommendation,  and  who  desired  to  be  introduced  to 
her.  Great  numbers  hastened  to  avail  themselves  of  this 
permission. 

The  most  brilliant  and  select  circle  was  soon  assem- 
bled around  the  duchess.  There,  were  to  be  found  the 
great  men  of  the  empire,  who  came  out  of  attachment ; 
distinguished  strangers,  who  came  out  of  admiration ; 
and,  finally,  the  aristocrats  of  the  old  era,  who  came  out 
of  curiosity,  who  came  to  see  if  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu 
was  really  so  intelligent,  amiable,  and  graceful,  as  she  was 
said  to  be. 

The  parlors  of  the  duchess  were  therefore  more 
talked  of  in  Paris  than  they  had  been  at  St.  Leu.  The 
old  duchesses  and  princesses  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Ger- 
main, with  all  their  ancestors,  prejudices,  and  preten- 
sions, were  enraged  at  hearing  this  everlasting  praise  of 
the  charming  queen,  and  endeavored  to  appease  their 
wrath  by  renewed  hostilities  against  its  object. 

It  was  not  enough  that  she  was  calumniated,  at  court 
and  in  society,  as  a  dangerous  person  ;  the  arm  of  the 
press  was  also  wielded  against  her. 

As  we  have  said,  Hortense  was  the  embodied  remem- 
brance of  the  empire,  and  it  was  therefore  determined 
that  she  should  be  destroyed.  Brochures  and  pamphlets 
were  published,  in  which  the  king  was  appealed  to,  to 
banish  from  Paris,  and  even  from  France,  the  dangerous 
woman  who  was  conspiring  publicly,  and  even  under  the 
very  eyes  of  the  government,  for  Napoleon,  and  to  ban- 
ish with  her  the  two  children  also,  the  two  Kapoleons ; 


2Q0  QUEEN  HOTtTENSE. 

"for,"  said  these  odious  accusers,  "to  leave  these  two* 
princes  here,  means  to  raise  in  France  wolves  that  would 
one  day  ravage  their  country."  * 

Hortense  paid  but  little  attention  to  these  reports  and 
calumnies.  She  was  too  much  accustomed  to  being  mis- 
understood and  wrongly  judged,  to  allow  herself  to  be 
disquieted  thereby.  She  knew  that  calumnies  were 
never  refuted  by  contradiction,  and  that  it  was  therefore 
better  to  meet  them  with  proud  silence,  and  to  conquer 
them  by  contempt,  instead  of  giving  them  new  life  by 
combating  and  contradicting  them. 

She  herself  entertained  such  contempt  for  calumny 
that  she  ne^er  allowed  anything  abusive  to  be  said  in  her 
presence  that  would  injure  any  one  in  her  estimation. 
When,  on  one  occasion,  while  she  was  still  Queen  of 
Holland,  a  lady  of  Holland  took  occasion  to  speak  ill  of 
another  lady,  on  account  of  her  political  opinions,  the 
queen  interrupted  her,  and  said :  "  Madame,  here  I  am  a 
stranger  to  all  parties,  and  receive  all  persons  with  the 
same  consideration,  for  I  love  to  hear  every  one  well 
spoken  of ;  and  I  generally  receive  an  unfavorable  im- 
pression of  those  only  who  speak  ill  of  others."  f 

And,  strange  to  say,  she  herself  was  ever  the  object  of 
calumny  and  accusation. 

"  During  twenty-five  years,  I  have  never  been  sepa- 
rated from  Princess  Hortense,"  says  Louise  de  Cochelet, 
"  and  I  have  never  observed  in  her  the  slightest  feeling 

♦  Cochelet,  Memoires  sur  la  Reine  Hortense,  vol.  ii.,  p.  230. 
f  Cochelet,  vol.  i.,  p.  378. 


DRAWING-ROOM  OP  THE  DUCHESS  OF  ST.  LEU.  261 

of  bitterness  against  any  one  ;  ever  good  and  gentle,  she 
never  failed  to  take  an  interest  in  those  who  were  un- 
happy ;  and  she  endeavored  to  help  them  whenever  and 
wherever  they  presented  themselves.  And  this  noble 
and  gentle  woman  was  always  the  object  of  hatred  and 
absurd  calumnies,  and  against  all  this  she  was  armed 
with  the  integrity  and  purity  of  her  actions  and  inten- 
tions only."  * 

Nor  did  Hortense  now  think  of  contradicting  the 
calumnies  that  had  been  circulated  concerning  her.  Her 
mind  was  occupied  with  other  and  far  more  important 
matters. 

An  ambassador  of  her  husband,  who  resided  in  Flor- 
ence, had  come  to  Paris  in  order  to  demand  of  Hortense, 
in  the  name  of  Louis  Bonaparte,  his  two  sons. 

After  much  discussion,  he  had  finally  declared  that  he 
would  be  satisfied,  if  his  wife  would  send  him  his  eldest 
son,  Napoleon  Louis,  only. 

But  the  loving  mother  could  not  and  would  not  con- 
sent to  a  separation  from  either  of  her  children  ;  and  as, 
in  spite  of  her  entreaties,  her  husband  persisted  in  refus- 
ing to  allow  her  to  retain  both  of  them,  she  resolved,  in 
the  anguish  of  maternal  love,  to  resort  to  the  most  ex- 
treme means  to  retain  the  possession  of  her  sons. 

She  informed  her  husband's  ambassador  that  it  was 
her  fixed  purpose  to  retain  possession  of  her  children, 
aod  appealed  to  the  law  to  recognize  and  protect  them, 

♦  Cochelet.  voL  L,  o.  87a 


■262  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

and  not  allow  her  sons  to  be  deprived  of  their  rights  as 
I'renchmen,  by  going  into  a  compulsory  exile. 

While  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu  was  being  accused  of 
'Conspiring  in  favor  of  Napoleon,  her  whole  soul  was 
occupied  with  the  one  question,  which  was  to  decide 
whether  one  of  her  sons  could  be  torn  from  her  side  or 
not;  and,  if  she  conspired  at  all,  it  was  only  with  her 
lawyer  in  order  to  frustrate  her  husband's  plans. 

But  the  calumnies  and  accusations  of  the  press  were 
nevertheless  continued  ;  and  at  last  her  friends  thought  it 
necessary  to  lay  before  the  queen  a  journal  that  contained 
a  violent  and  abusive  article  against  her,  and  to  request 
that  they  might  be  permitted  to  reply  to  it. 

With  a  sad  smile,  Hortense  read  the  article  and  re- 
turned the  newspaper. 

"It  is  extremely  mortifying  to  be  scorned  by  one's 
<jountrymen,"  said  she,  "  but  it  would  be  useless  to  make 
any  reply.  I  can  afford  to  disregard  such  attacks — they 
are  powerless  to  harm  me." 

But  when  on  the  following  morning  the  same  journal 
^contained  a  venomous  and  odious  article  levelled  at  her 
husband,  Louis  Bonaparte,  her  generous  indignation  was 
aroused,  and,  oblivious  of  all  their  disagreements,  and 
even  of  the  process  now  pending  between  them,  she  re- 
membered only  that  it  was  the  father  of  her  children 
whom  they  had  dared  to  attack,  and  that  he  was  not  pres- 
sent  to  defend  himself.  It  therefore  devolved  upon  her 
to  defend  him. 

"  I  am  enraged,  and  I  desire  that  M.  Despr6s  shall  re- 


THE  BURIAL  CF  LOUIS  XVL  AND  HIS  WIFE.    263 

plj  to  this  article  at  once,"  said  Hortenso.  "  Although 
paternal  love  on  the  one  side,  and  maternal  love  on  the 
other,  has  involved  us  in  a  painful  process,  it  neverthe- 
less concerns  no  one  else,  and  it  disgraces  neither  of  us. 
I  should  be  in  despair,  if  this  sad  controversy  were  made 
the  pretext  for  insulting  the  father  of  my  children  and 
the  honored  name  he  bears.  For  the  very  reason  that  I 
itand  alone,  am  I  called  on  to  defend  the  absent  to  the 
%est  of  my  ability.  Therefore  let  M.  Despres  come  to 
me ;  I  will  instruct  him  how  to  answer  this  disgraceful 
\rticle ! " 

On  the  following  day,  an  able  and  eloquent  article  in 
defence  of  Louis  Bonaparte  appeared  in  the  journal — an 
article  that  shamed  and  silenced  his  accusers — an  article 
which  the  prince,  whose  cause  it  so  warmly  espoused, 
probably  never  thought  of  attributing  to  the  wife  to 
whose  maternal  heart  he  had  caused  such  anguish.  * 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  BUBIAL  OF  lOUIS   XVI.   AND   HIS   WIFE, 

The  earnest  endeavors  of  the  Bourbon  court  to  find 
the  resting-place  of  the  remains  of  the  royal  couple  who 
had  died  on  the  scaffold,  and  who  had  expiated  the  crimes 
of  their  predecessors  rather  than  their  own,  were  at  last 
successful.     The  remains  of  the  illustrious  martyrs  had 

♦  Cochelet,  vol  L,  p.  808. 


QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

been  sought  for  in  accordance  with  the  directions  of  per- 
sons who  had  witnessed  their  sorrowful  and  contemptu- 
ous burial,  and  the  body  of  Louis  XYI.  was  found  in  a 
desolate  corner  of  the  grave-yard  of  St.  Eoch,  and  in  an- 
other place  also  that  of  Queen  Marie  Antoinette. 

It  was  the  king's  wish,  and  a  perfectly  natural  and 
just  one,  to  inter  these  bodies  in  the  royal  vault  at  St. 
Denis,  but  he  wished  to  do  it  quietly  and  without  pomp ; 
his  acute  political  tact  taught  him  that  these  sad  remains 
ehould  not  be  made  the  occasion  of  a  political  demonstra- 
tion, and  that  it  was  unwise  to  permit  the  bones  of  Louis 
XYI.  to  become  a  new  apple  of  discord. 

But  the  king's  court,  even  his  nearest  relatives,  his 
ministers,  and  the  whole  troop  of  arrogant  courtiers,  who 
desired,  by  means  of  an  ostentatious  interment,  not  only 
to  show  a  proper  respect  for  the  beheaded  royal  pair,  but 
also  to  punish  those  whom  they  covertly  called  "  regi- 
cides," and  whom  they  were  nevertheless  now  compelled 
to  tolerate — the  king's  entire  court  demanded  a  solemn 
and  ceremonious  interment ;  and  Louis,  who,  as  he  him- 
self had  said,  "  was  king,  but  not  master,"  was  compelled 
to  yield  to  this  demand. 

Preparations  were  therefore  made  for  an  ostentatious 
interment  of  the  royal  remains,  and  it  was  determined 
that  the  melancholy  rites  should  take  place  on  the  21st  of 
January,  1815,  the  anniversary  of  painful  memories  and 
unending  regret  for  the  royal  family. 

M.  de  Chateaubriand,  the  noble  and  intelligent  eulo- 
gist and  friend  of  the  Bourbons,  caused  an  article  to  be  in- 


THE  BURIAL  OF  LOUIS  XVI.  AND  HIS  WIFE.    265 

serted  in  the  Journal  des  Debats^  in  whicli  lie  announced 
the  impending  ceremony.  This  article  was  then  repub- 
lished in  pamphlet  form;  and  so  great  was  the  sym- 
pathy of  the  Parisians  in  the  approaching  event,  that 
thirty  thousand  copies  were  disposed  of,  in  Paris  alone, 
in  one  day. 

On  the  20th  of  January  the  graves  of  the  martyrs 
were  opened,  and  all  the  princes  of  the  royal  house  who 
were  present,  knelt  down  at  the  edge  of  the  grave  to 
mingle  their  prayers  with  those  of  the  thousands  who 
had  accompanied  them  to  the  church-yard. 

But  the  king  was  right.  This  act,  that  appeared  to 
8ome  to  be  a  mere  act  of  justice,  seemed  an  insult  to 
others,  and  reminded  them  of  the  dark  days  of  error  and 
fanaticism,  in  which  they  had  allowed  themselves  to  be 
drawn  into  the  vortex  of  the  general  delirium.  Many  of 
those  who  in  the  Assembly  had  voted  for  the  death  of  the 
king,  were  now  residing  at  Paris,  and  even  at  court,  as 
for  instance  Fouch^,  and  to  them  the  approaching  cere- 
mony seemed  an  insult. 

"  Are  you  aware,"  exclaimed  Descourtis,  as  he  rushed 
into  the  apartment  of  Cambac^res,  who  was  at  that  mo- 
ment conversing  with  the  Count  de  Pere,  "have  you 
already  been  informed  that  this  ceremony  is  really  to  take 
place  to-morrow  ? " 

"Yes,  to-morrow  is  the  fated  day.  To-morrow  we 
are  to  be  delivered  over  to  the  daggers  of  fanatics." 

"  Is  this  the  pardon  that  was  promised  us  ? " 

"  As  for  that,"  exclaimed  the  Count  de  Pere  (a  good 
18 


266  QUEEN  HORTENSE, 

royalist),  "  I  was  not  aware  that  there  was  a^  article  in 
the  constitution  forbidding  the  reinterment  of  the  mortal 
remains  of  the  royal  pair.  The  proceeding  will  be  per- 
fectly lawful." 

"  It  is  their  purpose  to  infuriate  the  populace,"  ex- 
claimed Descourtis,  pale  with  inward  agitation.  "  Old 
recollections  are  to  be  recalled  and  a  mute  accusation 
hurled  at  us.  But  we  shall  some  day  be  restored  to 
power  again,  and  then  we  will  remember  also ! " 

Cambac^res,  who  had  listened  to  this  conversation  in 
silence^  now  stepped  forward,  and,  taking  Descourtis's 
hand  in  his  own,  pressed  it  tenderly, 

"  Ah,  my  friend,"  said  he,  in  sad  and  solemn  tones, 
"  I  would  we  were  permitted  to  march  behind  the  funeral- 
car  in  mourning-robes  to-morrow !  We  owe  this  proof  of 
repentance  to  France  and  to  ourselves  ! " 

The  solemn  funeral  celebration  took  place  on  the  fol- 
lowing day.  All  Paris  took  part  in  it.  Every  one,  even 
the  old  republicans,  the  Bonapartists  as  well  as  the  royal- 
ists, joined  the  funeral  procession,  in  order  to  testify  that 
they  had  abandoned  the  past  and  were  repentant. 

Slowly  and  solemnly,  amid  the  ringing  of  all  the 
bells,  the  roll  of  the  drum,  the  thunders  of  artillery, 
and  the  chants  of  the  clergy,  the  procession  moved  on- 
ward. 

The  golden  crown,  which  hung  suspended  over  the 
funeral-car,  shone  lustrously  in  the  sunlight.  It  had 
fallen  from  the  heads  of  the  royal  pair  while  they  still 
lived ;  it  now  adorned  them  in  death. 


NAPOLEON'S  RETURN  FROM  ELBA.      2Q7 

Slowly  and  solemnly  the  procession  moved  onward ;  it 
had  arrived  at  the  Boulevards  which  separates  the  twa 
streets  of  Montmartre.  Suddenly  a  terrible,  thousand- 
voiced  cry  of  horror  burst  upon  the  air. 

The  crown,  which  hung  suspended  over  the  funeral- 
car,  had  fallen  down,  touching  the  coffins  with  a  dismal 
M>und,  and  then  broke  into  fragments  on  the  glittering 
finow  of  the  street. 

This  occurred  on  the  21st  of  January ;  two  months 
later,  at  the  same  hour,  and  on  the  same  day,  the  crowi> 
of  Louis  XY III.  fell  from  his  head,  and  Napoleon  placed 
it  on  his  own  t 


CHAPTER  X. 

KAPOLEON's  BETUBN  FEOM  ELBA. 

A  CBY  of  tremendous  import  reverberated  through 
Paris,  all  France,  and  all  Europe,  in  the  first  days  of 
March,  1815.  Napoleon,  it  was  said,  had  quitted  Elba, 
and  would  soon  arrive  in  France  I 

The  royalists  heard  it  with  dismay,  the  Bonapartista 
with  a  delight  that  they  hardly  took  the  pains  to  con* 
ceal. 

Hortense  alone  took  no  part  in  the  universal  delight 
of  the  imperialists.  Her  soul  was  filled  with  profound 
sadness  and  dark  forebodings.  "  I  lament  this  step," 
said  she ;  "  I  would  have  sacrificed  every  thing  to  prevent 
Lis  return  to  France,  because  I  am  of  the  belief  that  no 


268  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

good  can  come  of  it.  Many  will  declare  for,  and  many 
against  him,  and  we  shall  have  a  civil  war,  of  which  the 
emperor  himself  may  be  the  victim."  * 

In  the  meanwhile  the  general  excitement  was  continu- 
ally increasing ;  it  took  possession  of  every  one,  and  at 
this  time  none  would  have  been  capable  of  giving  cool 
and  sensible  advice. 

Great  numbers  of  the  emperor's  friends  came  to  the 
Duchess  of  St.  Leu,  and  demanded  of  her  counsel,  assist- 
ance, and  encouragement,  accusing  her  of  indifference  and 
want  of  sympathy,  because  she  did  not  share  their  hopes, 
and  was  sad  instead  of  rejoicing  with  them. 

But  the  spies  of  the  still  ruling  government,  who  laj 
in  wait  around  the  queen's  dwelling,  did  not  hear  her 
words ;  they  only  saw  that  the  emperor's  former  generals 
and  advisers  were  in  the  habit  of  repairing  to  her  parlors, 
and  that  was  sufficient  to  stamp  Hortense  as  the  head  of 
the  conspiracy  which  had  for  its  object  the  return  of  Na* 
poleon  to  France. 

The  queen  perceived  the  danger  of  her  situation,  but 
she  bowed  her  head  to  receive  the  blows  of  Fate  in  silent 
resignation.  "  I  am  environed  by  torments  and  perplex- 
ities," said  she,  "  but  I  see  no  means  of  avoiding  them. 
There  is  no  resource  for  me  but  to  arm  myself  with 
courage,  and  that  I  will  do." 

The  royal  government,  however,  still  hoped  to  be  able 
to  stem  the  advancing  tide,  and  compel  the  waves  of 

*  Cochelet,  vol.  ii.,  p.  848. 


NAPOLEON'S  RETURN  FROM  ELBA.      269 

insurrection  to  surge  backward  and  destroy  those  who 
had  set  them  in  motion. 

Thej  proposed  to  treat  the  great  event  which  made 
France  glow  with  new  pulsations,  as  a  mere  insurrection, 
that  had  been  discovered  in  good  time,  and  could  there- 
fore be  easily  repressed.  They  therefore  determined, 
above  all,  to  seize  and  render  harmless  the  "  conspira- 
tors," that  is  to  say,  all  those  of  whom  it  was  known 
that  they  had  remained  faithful  to  the  emperor  in  their 
hearts. 

Spies  surrounded  the  houses  of  all  the  generals,  dukes, 
and  princes  of  the  empire,  and  it  was  only  in  disguise  and 
by  the  greatest  dexterity  that  they  could  evade  the  vigil- 
ance of  the  police. 

The  Duchess  of  St.  Leu  was  at  last  also  compelled  to 
yield  to  the  urgent  entreaties  of  her  friends,  and  seek 
an  asylum  during  these  days  of  uncertainty  and  danger. 
She  quitted  her  dwelling  in  disguise,  and,  penetrating 
through  the  army  of  spies  who  lay  in  wait  around  the 
house  and  in  the  street  in  which  she  resided,  she  happily 
succeeded  in  reaching  the  hiding-place  prepared  for  her 
by  a  faithful  servant  of  her  mother.  She  had  already 
confided  her  children  to  another  servant  who  had  re- 
mained true  to  her  in  her  time  of  trouble. 

The  Duke  of  Otranto,  now  once  more  the  faithful 
Fouch6  of  the  empire,  was  also  to  have  been  arrested,  but 
he  managed  to  effect  his  escape.  General  Lavalette — 
who  was  aware  that  the  dwelling  of  the  Duchess  of  St. 
Leu  wa«  no  longer  watched  by  the  police,  who  had  di*- 


270  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

covered  that  the  duchess  was  no  longer  there — Lavalette 
took  advantage  of  this  circumstance,  and  concealed  him- 
self in  her  dwelling,  and  M.  de  Dandre,  the  chief  of 
police,  who  had  vainly  endeavored  to  catch  the  so-called 
conspirators,  exclaimed  in  anguish :  "  It  is  impossible  to 
find  any  one ;  it  has  been  so  much  noised  about  that  these 
Bonapartists  were  to  be  arrested,  that  they  are  now  all 
hidden  away." 

Like  a  bombshell  the  news  suddenly  burst  upon  the 
anxious  and  doubting  capital :  "  The  emperor  has  been 
received  by  the  people  in  Grenoble  with  exultation,  and 
the  troops  that  were  to  have  been  led  against  him  have, 
together  with  their  chieftain,  Charles  de  Labedoyere, 
gone  over  to  the  emperor.  The  gates  of  the  city  were 
thrown  open,  and  the  people  advanced  to  meet  him  with 
shouts  of  welcome  and  applause ;  and  now  Napoleon 
stood  no  longer  at  the  head  of  a  little  body  of  troops,  but 
at  the  head  of  a  small  army  that  was  increasing  with 
every  hour." 

The  government  still  endeavored,  through  its  officials 
and  through  the  public  press,  to  make  the  Parisians  di&- 
believe  this  intelligence. 

But  the  government  had  lost  faith  in  itself.  It  heard 
the  old,  the  hated  cry,  "  Yive  I'empereur ! "  resounding 
through  the  air ;  it  heard  the  fluttering  of  the  victorious 
battle-flags  of  Marengo,  Areola,  Jena,  and  Austerlitz  1 
The  Emperor  I^apoleon  was  still  the  conquering  hero, 
who  swayed  destiny  and  compelled  it  to  declare  for  him. 

A  perfect  frenzy  of  dismay  took  possession  of  the 


NAPOLEON'S  RETURN  FROM  ELBA.  271 

royalists  ;  and  when  they  learned  that  Napoleon  had 
already  arrived  in  Lyons,  that  its  inhabitants  had  received 
him  with  enthusiasm,  and  that  its  garrison  had  also  de- 
clared for  him,  their  panic  knew  no  bounds. 

The  royalist  leaders  assembled  at  the  house  of  Count 
de  la  Pere,  for  the  purpose  of  holding  a  last  great  dis- 
cussion and  consultation.  The  most  eminent  persons, 
men  and  women,  differing  widely  on  other  subjects,  but 
a  unit  on  this  point,  assembled  here  with  the  same  feel- 
ings of  patriotic  horror,  and  with  the  same  desire  to  pro- 
mote the  general  welfare.  There  were  Madame  de  Stael, 
Benjamin  Constant,  Count  Laine,  and  Chateaubriand; 
there  were  the  Duke  de  Nemours,  and  Count  de  la  Pere, 
and  around  them  gathered  the  whole  troop  of  anxious 
royalists,  expecting  and  hoping  that  the  eloquent  lips  of 
these  celebrated  personages  who  stood  in  their  midst 
would  give  them  consolation  and  new  life. 

Benjamin  Constant  spoke  first.  He  said  that,  to  Na- 
poleon, that  is,  to  force,  force  must  be  opposed.  Bona- 
parte was  armed  with  the  love  of  the  soldiers,  they  must 
arm  themselves  with  the  love  of  the  citizens.  His  ap- 
pearance  was  imposing,  like  the  visage  of  Caesar  ;  it 
would  be  necessary  to  oppose  to  him  an  equally  sublime 
countenance.  Lafayette  should,  therefore,  be  made  com- 
mander-in-chief of  the  French  army. 

M.  de  Chateaubriand  exclaimed,  with  noble  indigna- 
tion, that  the  first  step  to  be  taken  by  the  government 
was  to  punish  severely  a  ministry  that  was  so  short- 
sighted, and  had  committed  so  many  faults.     Lain6  de- 


272  QUEEN  HORTENSB- 

clared,  with  a  voice  tremulous  with  emotion,  that  all  waa 
lost,  and  that  but  one  means  of  confounding  tyranny  re- 
mained ;  a  scene,  portraying  the  whole  terror,  dismay, 
and  grief  of  the  capital  at  the  approach  of  the  hated 
enemy,  should  be  arranged.  In  accordance  with  this 
plan,  the  whole  population  of  Paris — the  entire  National 
Guard,  the  mothers,  the  young  girls,  the  children,  the 
old  and  the  young — were  to  pass  out  of  the  city,  and 
await  the  tyrant;  and  this  aspect  of  a  million  of  men 
fleeing  from  the  face  of  a  single  human  being  was  to 
move  or  terrify  him  who  came  to  rob  them  of  their 
peace! 

In  her  enthusiastic  and  energetic  manner,  Madame  de 
Stael  pronounced  an  anathema  against  the  usurper  who 
was  about  to  kindle  anew,  in  weeping,  shivering  France, 
the  flames  of  war. 

All  were  touched,  enthusiastic,  and  agitated,  but  they 
could  do  nothing  but  utter  fine  phrases ;  and  all  that  fell 
from  the  eloquent  lips  of  these  celebrated  poets  and  poli- 
ticians was,  as  it  were,  nothing  more  than  a  bulletin  con- 
cerning the  condition  of  the  patient,  and  concerning  the 
mortal  wounds  which  he  had  received.  This  patient  was 
France ;  and  the  royalists,  who  were  assembled  in  the 
house  of  Count  de  la  Pere,  now  felt  that  the  patient's 
case  was  hopeless,  and  that  nothing  remained  to  them  but 
to  go  into  exile,  and  bemoan  his  sad  fate !  * 

*  Memoires  d'une  Femme  de  Qualite,  voL  i.,  p.  99. 


LOUIS'S  DEPARTURE  AND  NAPOLEON'S  ARRIVAL.  273 
CHAPTER  XI. 

LOUIS   XVm.'s   DEPARTURE   AND   NAPOLEON's   ARRIVAL. 

While  the  royalists  were  thus  considering,  hesitating, 
and  despairing,  King  Louis  XYIII.  had  alone  retained 
his  composure  and  sense  of  security.  That  is  to  say, 
they  had  taken  care  not  to  inform  him  of  the  real  state  of 
affairs.  On  the  contrary,  he  had  been  informed  that  Bo- 
naparte had  been  everywhere  received  with  coldness  and 
eilence,  and  that  the  army  would  not  respond  to  his  ap- 
peal, but  would  remain  true  to  the  king.  The  exultation 
with  which  the  people  everywhere  received  the  advancing 
emperor  found,  therefore,  no  echo  in  the  Tuileries,  and 
the  crowd  who  pressed  around  the  king  when  he  repaired 
to  the  hall  of  the  Corps  UgislaUf  to  hold  an  encouraging 
address,  was  not  the  people,  but  the  royalists — those 
otherwise  so  haughty  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  old 
nobility,  who  again,  as  on  the  day  of  the  first  entrance, 
acted  the  part  to  which  the  people  were  not  disposed  to 
adapt  themselves,  and  transformed  themselves  for  a  mo- 
ment into  the  people,  in  order  to  show  to  the  king  the 
demonstrations  of  his  people's  love. 

The  king  was  completely  deceived.  M.  de  Blacas 
told  the  king  of  continuous  reverses  to  Napoleon's  arms, 
while  the  emperor's  advance  was  in  reality  a  continuous 
triumph.  They  had  carried  this  deception  so  far  that 
they  had  informed  the  king  that  Lyons  had  closed  its 
gates  to  Napoleon,  and  that  Ney  was  advancing  to  meet 


274  QUEEN  HORTENSB. 

him,  vowing  that  he  would  bring  the  emperor  back  to 
Paris  in  an  iron  cage. 

The  king  was  therefore  composed,  seK-possessed,  and 
resolute,  ^hen  suddenly  his  brother,  the  Count  d'Artois, 
and  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  who,  according  to  the  king's 
belief,  occupied  Lyons  as  a  victor,  arrived  in  Paris  alone, 
as  fugitives,  abandoned  by  their  soldiers  and  servants, 
and  informed  Louis  that  Lyons  had  received  the  emperor 
with  open  arms,  and  that  no  resource  had  been  left  them 
but  to  betake  themselves  to  flight. 

And  a  second,  and  still  more  terrible,  item  of  intelli- 
gence followed  the  first.  Ney,  the  king's  hope,  the  last 
support  of  his  tottering  throne,  Ney  had  not  had  the 
heart  to  maintain  a  hostile  position  toward  his  old  com- 
panion in  arms,  l^ej  had  gone  over  to  the  emperor,  and 
his  army  had  followed  him  with  exultation. 

The  king's  eyes  were  now  opened,  he  now  saw  the 
truth,  and  learned  how  greatly  he  had  been  deceived. 

"  Alas,"  cried  he,  sadly,  "  Bonaparte  fell  because  he 
would  not  listen  to  the  truth,  and  I  shall  fall  because 
they  would  not  tell  me  the  truth ! " 

At  this  moment,  and  while  the  king  was  eloquently 
appealing  to  his  brothers  and  relatives,  and  to  the  gentle- 
men of  his  court  who  surrounded  him,  to  tell  him  the 
whole  truth,  the  door  opened,  and  the  Minister  Blacas, 
until  then  so  complacent,  so  confident  of  victory,  now 
stepped  in  pale  and  trembling. 

The  truth,  which  he  had  so  long  concealed  from  the 
king,  was  now  plainly  impressed  on  his  pale,  terrified 


LOUIS'S  DEPARTURE  AND  NAPOLEON'S  ARRIVAL.  275 

countenance.  The  king  had  desired  to  hear  the  truth ; 
it  stood  before  him  in  his  trembling  minister. 

A  short  interval  of  profound  silence  occurred;  the 
eyes  of  all  were  fastened  on  the  count,  and,  in  the  midst 
of  the  general  silence,  he 'was  heard  to  say,  in  a  voice 
choked  with  emotion:  "Sire,  all  is  lost;  the  army,  as 
well  as  the  people,  betray  your  majesty.  It  will  be 
necessary  for  your  majesty  to  leave  Paris." 

The  king  staggered  backward  for  an  instant,  and 
then  fastened  an  inquiring  glance  on  the  faces  of  all 
who  were  present.  No  one  dared  to  return  his  gaze 
with  a  glance  of  hope.  They  all  looked  down  sorrow- 
fully. 

The  king  understood  this  mute  reply,  and  a  deep 
8igh  escaped  his  breast. 

"The  tree  bears  its  fruit,"  said  he,  with  a  bitter 
smile ;  "  heretofore  it  has  been  your  purpose  to  make  me 
govern  for  you,  hereafter  I  shall  govern  for  no  one.  If 
I  shall,  however,  return  to  the  throne  of  my  fathers  once 
more,  you  will  be  made  to  understand  that  I  will  profit 
by  the  experience  you  have  given  me ! "  * 

A  few  hours  later,  at  nightfall,  supported  on  the  arm 
of  Count  Blacas,  without  any  suite,  and  preceded  by  a 
single  lackey  bearing  a  torch,  the  king  left  the  once  more 
desolate  and  solitary  Tuileries,  and  fled  to  Holland. 

Twenty-four  hours  later,  on  the  evening  of  the  20th 
of  March,  Napoleon  entered  the  Tuileries,  accompanied 

♦  The  king's  own  words.    M6moires  d'une  Femme  de  Qualite,  voL 
L,  p.  150. 


276  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

by  the  exulting  shouts  of  the  people,  and  the  thundering 
"  Vive  rempereur^^  of  the  troops.  On  the  same  place 
where  the  white  flag  of  the  Bourbons  had  but  yesterday 
fluttered,  the  tricolore  of  the  empire  now  flung  out  its 
folds  to  the  breeze. 

In  the  Tuileries  the  emperor  found  all  his  old  minis- 
ters, his  generals,  and  his  courtiers,  assembled.  All  were 
desirous  of  seeing  and  greeting  him.  An  immense  con- 
course of  people  surged  around  the  entrance  on  the  stair- 
ways and  in  the  halls. 

Borne  aloft  on  the  arm's  and  shoulders  of  the  people, 
the  emperor  was  carried  up  the  stairway,  and  into  his 
apartments ;  and,  while  shouts  of  joy  were  resounding 
within,  the  thousands  without  joined  the  more  fortunate 
ones  who  had  borne  the  emperor  to  his  apartments,  and 
rent  the  air  with  exulting  cries  of  '*  Vwe  Vempereur  !  '^ 

In  his  cabinet,  to  which  Napoleon  immediately  re- 
paired, he  was  received  by  Queen  Julia,  wife  of  Joseph 
Bonaparte,  and  Queen  Hortense,  who  had  abandoned  her 
place  of  concealment,  and  hurried  to  the  Tuileries  to 
salute  the  emperor. 

E'apoleon  greeted  Hortense  coldly,  he  inquired  briefly 
after  the  health  of  her  sons,  and  then  added,  almost  se- 
verely :  "  You  have  placed  my  nephews  in  a  false  posi- 
tion, by  permitting  them  to  remain  in  the  midst  of  my 
enemies." 

Hortense  turned  pale,  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 
The  emperor  seemed  not  to  notice  it.  "  You  have  ac- 
cepted  the  friendship   of  my  enemies,"   said  he,  "  and 


THE  HUNDRED  DAY&  277 

have  placed  yourself  under  obligations  to  the  Bourbons. 
I  depend  on  Eugene ;  I  hope  he  will  so^n  be  here.  I 
wrote  to  him  from  Lyons." 

This  was  the  reception  Hortense  received  from  the 
emperor.  He  was  angry  with  her  for  having  remained  in 
France,  and  at  the  same  time  the  flying  Bourbons,  who 
were  on  their  way  to  Holland,  said  of  her  :  "  The  Duch- 
ess of  St.  Leu  is  to  blame  for  all  I  Her  intrigues  alone 
have  brought  Napoleon  back  to  Paris." 


CHAPTEK  Xn. 

THE   HUNDRED   DAT8. 

The  hundred  days  that  followed  the  emperor's  return 
are  like  a  myth  of  the  olden  time,  like  a  poem  of  Homer, 
in  which  heroes  destroy  worlds  with  a  blow  of  the  hand, 
and  raise  armies  out  of  the  ground  with  a  stamp  of  the 
foot ;  in  which  nations  perish,  and  new  ones  are  bom 
within  the  space  of  a  minute. 

These  hundred  days  stand  in  history  as  a  giant  era, 
and  these  hundred  days  of  the  restored  empire  were  re- 
plete with  all  the  earth  can  offer  of  fortune,  of  magnifi- 
cence, of  glory,  and  of  victory,  as  well  as  of  all  that  the 
earth  contains  that  is  disgraceful,  miserable,  traitorous, 
and  perfidious. 

Wondrous  and  brilliant  was  their  commencement. 
All  France  seemed  to  hail  the  emperor's  return  with  ex- 


278  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

ultation.  Every  one  hastened  to  assure  him  of  his  mi* 
changeable  fidelity,  and  to  persuade  him  that  they  had 
only  obeyed  the  Bourbons  under  compulsion. 

The  old  splendor  of  the  empire  once  more  prevailed 
in  the  Tuileries,  where  the  emperor  now  held  his  glitter- 
ing  court  again.  There  was,  however,  this  difference: 
Queen  Hortense  now  did  the  honors  of  the  court,  in  the 
place  of  the  Empress  Marie  Louise,  who  had  not  re- 
turned with  her  husband;  and  the  emperor  could  not 
now  show  the  people  his  own  son,  but  could  only  point 
to  his  two  nephews,  the  sons  of  Hortense. 

The  emperor  had  quickly  reconciled  himself  to  the 
queen ;  he  had  been  compelled  to  yield  to  her  gentle  and 
yet  decided  explanations ;  he  had  comprehended  that 
Hortense  had  sacrificed  herself  for  her  children,  in  con- 
tinuing to  remain  in  France  notwithstanding  her  reluc- 
tance. After  this  reconciliation  had  taken  place,  Napo- 
leon extended  his  hand  to  Hortense,  with  his  irresistible 
smile,  and  begged  her  to  name  a  wish,  in  order  that  he 
might  fulfil  it. 

Queen  Hortense,  who  had  been  so  bitterly  slandered 
and  scorned  by  the  royalists,  and  who  was  still  considered 
by  the  fleeing  Bourbons  to  be  the  cause  of  their  over- 
throw— this  same  queen  now  entreated  the  emperor  to 
permit  the  Duchess  d' Orleans,  who  had  not  been  able  to 
leave  Paris  on  account  of  a  broken  limb,  to  remain,  and 
to  accord  her  a  pension  besides.  She  told  the  emperor 
that  she  had  received  a  letter  from  the  duchess,  in  which 
she  begged  for  her  intercession  in  obtaining  some  assist- 


THE  HUNDRED  DAYa  279 

ance  from  the  emperor,  assuring  her  that  it  was  urgently 
needed,  in  her  depressed  circumstances. 

The  emperor  consented  to  grant  this  wish  of  his  step- 
daughter Hortense ;  and  it  was  solely  at  her  solicitation 
that  Napoleon  accorded  a  pension  of  four  hundred  thou- 
sand francs  to  the  Duchess  d* Orleans,  the  mother  of  King 
Louis  Philippe.* 

A  few  days  later,  at  Hortense's  request,  a  pension  of 
two  hundred  thousand  francs  was  also  accorded  to  the 
Duchess  of  Bourbon,  who  had  also  besought  the  queen 
to  exert  her  influence  in  her  behalf  ;  and  both  ladies  now 
hastened  to  assure  Hortense  of  their  everlasting  grati- 
tude. The  fulfilment  of  her  wish  filled  Hortense  with 
delight ;  she  was  as  proud  of  it  as  of  a  victory  achieved. 

"  I  consi(Jered  it  a  sacred  duty,"  said  she,  "  to  inter- 
cede for  these  ladies.  They  were  as  isolated  and  desolate 
as  I  had  been  a  few  days  before,  and  I  know  how  sad  it 
is  to  be  in  such  a  state ! " 

But  Hortense's  present  state  was  a  very  different  one. 
She  was  now  no  longer  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu,  but  the 
queen  and  the  ornament  of  the  court  once  more ;  all  heads 
now  bowed  before  her  again,  and  the  high-bom  ladies,  who 
had  seemed  oblivious  of  her  existence  during  the  past 
year,  now  hastened  to  do  homage  to  the  queen. 

"Majesty,"  said  one  of  these  ladies  to  the  queen, 
^*  unfortunately,  you  were  always  absent  in  the  country 
when  I  called  to  pay  my  respects  during  the  past  winter." 

*  La  Reine  Hortense  en  Italle,  en  France,  et  en  Angleterre.    Ecrit 
par  elle-nUme,  p.  185. 


280  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

The  queen's  only  response  was  a  gentle  "  Indeed, 
madame,"  which  she  accompanied  with  a  smile. 

Hortense,  as  has  before  been  said,  was  now  again  the 
grand  point  of  attraction  at  court,  and,  at  IS'apoleon's 
command,  the  public  officials  now  also  hastened  to  solicit 
the  honor  of  an  audience,  in  order  to  pay  their  respects 
to  the  emperor's  step-daughter.  Each  day  beheld  new 
fHes  and  ceremonies. 

The  most  sublime  and  imposing  of  all  these  was  the 
ceremony  of  the  Champ  de  Mai,  that  took  place  on  the 
first  of  June,  and  at  which  the  emperor,  in  the  presence 
of  the  applauding  populace,  presented  to  his  army  the 
new  eagles  and  flags,  which  they  were  henceforth  to 
carry  into  battle  instead  of  the  lilies  of  the  Bourbons. 

It  was  a  wondrous,  an  enchanting  spectacle  to  behold 
the  sea  of  human  beings  that  surged  to  and  fro  on  this 
immense  space,  and  made  the  welkin  ring  with  their 
"  Vive  Ve'm/per&wr  !  " — to  behold  the  proud,  triumphant 
soldiers  receiving  from  Napoleon  the  eagles  consecrated 
by  the  priests  at  the  altar  that  stood  before  the  emperor. 
It  was  a  wondrous  spectacle  to  behold  the  hundreds  of 
richly-attired  ladies  glittering  with  diamonds,  who  occu- 
pied the  tiers  of  seats  that  stood  immediately  behind  the 
emperor's  chair,  and  on  which  Hortense  and  her  two 
Bons  occupied  the  first  seats. 

The  air  was  so  balmy,  the  sun  shone  so  lustriously 
over  all  this  splendor  and  magnificence,  the  cannon  thun- 
dered so  mightily,  and  the  strains  of  music  resounded  so 
sweetly  on  the  ear ;  and,  while  all  were  applauding  and 


THE  HUNDRED  DAYS.  281 

rejoicing,  Hortense  sat  behind  the  emperor's  chair  cov- 
ertly sketching  the  imposing  scene  that  lay  before  her, 
the  grand  ceremony,  which,  a  dark  foreboding  told  her, 
"  might  perhaps  be  the  last  of  the  empire."  * 

Hortense  alone  did  not  allow  herself  to  be  deceived 
by  this  universal  delight  and  contentment. 

The  heavens  still  seemed  bright  and  serene  overhead, 
but  she  already  perceived  the  gathering  clouds,  she  al- 
ready heard  the  mutterings  of  the  storm  that  was  soon, 
and  this  time  forever,  to  hurl  the  emperor's  throne  to 
the  ground.  She  knew  that  a  day  would  suddenly  come 
when  all  this  brightness  would  grow  dim,  and  when  all 
those  who  now  bowed  so  humbly  before  him,  would  turn 
from  him  again — a  day  when  they  would  deny  and  de- 
sert the  emperor  as  they  had  already  done  once  before, 
and  that,  from  that  day  on,  the  present  period  of  grand- 
eur would  be  accounted  to  her  as  a  debt.  But  this  knowl- 
edge caused  her  neither  anxiety  nor  embarrassment. 

The  emperor  was  once  more  there ;  he  was  the  lord 
and  father  left  her  by  her  mother  Josephine,  and  it  was 
her  duty  and  desire  to  be  true  and  obedient  to  him  as 
long  as  she  lived. 

The  sun  still  shone  lustrously  over  the  restored  em- 
pire, and  in  the  parlors  of  Queen  Hortense,  where  the 
diplomats,  statesmen,  artists,  and  all  the  notables  of  the 
empire  were  in  the  habit  of  assembling,  gayety  reigned 
supreme.  There  music  and  literature  were  discussed,  and 
homage  done  to  all  the  fine  arts. 

^^         ♦  Cochelet,  toL  iii.,  p.  07. 


282  QUEEN  HORTENSE, 

Benjamin  Constant,  who  liad  with  great  rapidity 
transformed  himself  from  an  enthusiastic  royalist  into 
an  imperial  state-councillor,  came  to  the  queen's  parlors 
and  regaled  her  guests  by  reading  to  them  his  romance 
Adolphe;  and  Metternich,  the  Austrian  ambassador, 
seemed  to  have  no  other  destiny  than  to  amuse  the  queen 
and  the  circle  of  ladies  assembled  around  them,  and  to 
invent  new  social  games  for  their  entertainment. 

Metternich  knew  how  to  bring  thousands  of  charming 
little  frivolities  into  fashion ;  he  taught  the  ladies  the 
charming  and  poetic  language  of  flowers,  and  made  it  a 
symbolic  means  of  conversation  and  correspondence  in 
the  queen's  circle.  He  also,  to  the  great  delight  of  the 
court,  invented  the  alphabet  of  gems ;  in  this  alphabet 
each  gem  represented  its  initial  letter,  and,  by  combina- 
tions, names  and  devices  were  formed,  which  were  worn 
in  necklaces,  bracelets,  and  rings. 

The  little  games  with  which  the  diplomatic  Metter- 
nich occupied  himself  during  the  hundred  days  at  the  im- 
perial court  at  Paris,  were,  it  appears,  of  the  most  innocent 
and  harmless  nature. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

napoleon's  last  adieu. 


The  storm,  of  the  approach  of  which  Queen  Hortense 
had  so  long  had  a  foreboding,  was  preparing  to  burst  over 
France.  All  the  princes  of  Europe  who  had  once  been 
I^apoleon's  allies  had  now  declared  against  him.     They 


NAPOLEON'S  LAST  ADIEU.  283 

ail  refused  to  acknowledge  Napoleon  as  emperor,  or  to 
treat  with  him  as  one  having  any  authority. 

"  No  peace,  no  reconcihation  with  this  man,"  wrote 
the  Emperor  Alexander  to  Pozzo  di  Borgo  ;  "  all  Europe 
is  of  the  same  opinion  concerning  him.  With  the  excep- 
tion of  this  man,  any  thing  they  may  demand  ;  no  prefer- 
ence for  any  one  ;  no  war  after  this  man  shall  have  been 
set  aside."  * 

But,  in  order  to  "  set  this  man  aside,"  war  was  neces- 
bdry.  The  allied  armies  therefore  advanced  toward  the 
boundaries  of  Franco;  the  great  powers  declared  war 
against  France,  or  rather  against  the  Emperor  Napoleon  ; 
and  France,  which  had  so  long  desired  peace,  and  had 
only  accepted  the  Bourbons  because  it  hoped  to  obtain 
it  of  them,  France  was  now  compelled  to  take  up  the 
gauntlet. 

On  the  12th  of  June  the  emperor  left  Paris  with  his 
army,  in  order  to  meet  the  advancing  enemy.  Napoleon 
himself,  who  had  hitherto  gone  into  battle,  his  counte- 
nance beaming  with  an  assurance  of  victory,  now  looked 
gloomy  and  dejected,  for  he  well  knew  that  on  the  fate 
of  his  army  now  depended  his  own,  and  the  fate  of 
France. 

This  time  it  was  not  a  question  of  making  conquests, 
but  of  saving  the  national  independence,  and  it  was  the 
mother-earth,  red  with  the  blood  of  her  children,  that  was 
now  to  be  defended. 

Paris,  that  for  eighty  days  had  been  the  scene  of  splen- 

♦  Cochelet,  ^oL  ill,  p.  90. 


284:  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

dor  and  festivity,  now  put  on  its  mourning  attire.  All 
rejoicings  were  at  an  end,  and  every  one  listened  hope- 
fully to  catch  the  first  tones  of  the  thunder  of  a  victorious 
battle. 

But  the  days  of  victory  were  over  ;  the  cannon  thun- 
dered, the  battle  was  fought,  but  instead  of  a  triumph  it 
was  an  overthrow. 

At  Waterloo,  the  eagles  that  had  been  consecrated  on 
the  first  of  June,  on  the  Chcmyp  de  Mai,  sank  in  the  dust ; 
the  emperor  returned  to  Paris,  a  fugitive,  and  broken 
down  in  spirit,  while  the  victorious  allies  were  approach- 
ing the  capital. 

At  the  first  intelligence  of  his  return,  Hortense  has- 
tened to  the  Elysee,  where  he  had  taken  up  his  residence, 
to  greet  him.  During  the  last  few  days  she  had  been  a 
prey  to  gloomy  thoughts;  now  that  the  danger  had 
come,  now  when  all  were  despairing,  she  was  composed, 
resolute,  and  ready  to  stand  at  the  emperor's  side  to  the 
last. 

Napoleon  was  lost,  and  Hortense  knew  it;  but  he 
now  had  most  need  of  friends,  and  she  remained  true, 
while  so  many  of  his  nearest  friends  and  relatives  were 
deserting  him. 

On  the  twenty-second- day  of  June  the  emperor  sent 
in  his  abdication  in  favor  of  his  son,  the  King  of  Kome, 
to  the  chambers ;  and  a  week  later  the  chambers  pro- 
claimed Napoleon's  son  Emperor  of  France,  under  the 
name  of  Napoleon  II. 

But  this  emperor  was  a  child  of  four  years,  and  was, 


NAPOLEON'S  LAST  ADIEU.  285 

moreover,  not  in  France,  but  in  the  custody  of  the  Em- 
peror of  Austria,  whose  army  was  now  marching  on  Paris 
with  hostile  intent ! 

Napoleon,  now  no  longer  Emperor  of  France,  had 
been  compelled  to  take  the  crown  from  his  head  a  second 
time  ;  and  for  the  second  time  he  quitted  Paris  to  await 
the  destiny  to  be  appointed  him  by  the  allies. 

This  time  he  did  not  repair  to  Fontainebleau,  but  to 
Malmaison — to  Malmaison,  that  had  once  been  Jose- 
phine's paradise,  and  where  her  heart  had  at  last  bled  to 
death.  This  charming  resort  had  passed  into  the  posses- 
sion of  Queen  Hortense  ;  and  Napoleon,  who  but  yester- 
day had  ruled  over  a  whole  empire,  and  to-day  could  call 
nothing,  not  even  the  space  of  ground  on  which  he  stood, 
his  own,  Napoleon  asked  Hortense  to  receive  him  at  Mal- 
maison. 

Hortense  accorded  his  request  joyfully,  and,  when  her 
friends  learned  this,  and  in  their  dismay  and  anxiety  con- 
jured her  not  to  identify  in  this  manner  herself  and  chil- 
dren with  the  fate  of  the  emperor,  but  to  consider  well 
the  danger  that  would  result  from  such  a  course,  the 
queen  replied  resolutely :  "  That  is  an  additional  reason 
for  holding  firm  to  my  determination.  I  consider  it  my 
sacred  duty  to  remain  true  to  the  emperor  to  the  last,  and 
the  greater  the  danger  that  threatens  the  emperor,  the 
happier  I  shall  be  in  having  it  in  my  power  to  show  him 
my  entire  devotion  and  gratitude." 

And  when,  in  this  decision,  when  her  whole  future 
iiung  in  the  balance,  one  of  her  most  intimate  lady-friends 


286  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

ventured  to  remind  the  queen  of  the  disgraceful  and  ma- 
licious reports  that  had  once  been  put  in  circulation  with 
regard  to  her  relation  to  Napoleon,  and  suggested  that 
she  would  give  new  strength  to  them  by  now  receiving 
the  emperor  at  Malmaison,  Hortense  replied  with  dignity : 
**  What  do  I  care  for  these  calumnies  ?  I  fulfil  the  duty 
imposed  on  me  by  feehng  and  principle.  The  emperor 
has  always  treated  me  as  his  child  ;  I  shall  therefore  ever 
remain  his  devoted  and  grateful  daughter ;  it  is  my  first 
and  greatest  necessity  to  be  at  peace  with  myself."  * 

Hortense  therefore  repaired  with  the  emperor  to  Mal- 
maison, and  the  faithful,  who  were  not  willing  to  leave 
him  in  his  misfortune,  gathered  around  him,  watched 
over  his  Hf e,  and  gave  to  his  residence  a  fleeting  reflection 
of  the  old  grandeur  and  magnificence.  For  they  who 
now  stood  around  Napoleon,  guarding  his  person  from 
any  immediate  danger  that  threatened  him  at  the  hands 
of  fanatic  enemies  or  hired  assassins,  were  marshals,  gen- 
erals, dukes,  and  princes. 

But  Napoleon's  fate  was  already  decided — it  was  an 
inevitable  one,  and  when  the  intelligence  reached  Mal- 
maison that  the  enemy  was  approaching  nearer  and  nearer^ 
and  that  resistance  was  no  longer  made  anywhere,  and 
when  Napoleon  saw  that  all  was  lost,  his  throne,  his  crown, 
and  even  the  love  which  he  imagined  he  had  for  ever 
built  up  for  himself  in  the  hearts  of  the  French  people 
by  his  great  deeds  and  victories — when  he  saw  this  he 
determined  to  fly,  no  matter  whither,  but  away  from  the 
*  Cochelet,  vol.  iii,,  p.  149. 


NAPOLEON'S  LAST  ADIEU.  28T 

France  that  would  no  longer  rally  to  his  call,  the  France 
that  had  abandoned  him. 

The  emperor  resolved  to  fly  to  Rochefort,  and  to  em- 
bark there  in  order  to  return  to  Elba.  The  provisional 
government  that  had  established  itself  in  Paris,  and  had 
sent  an  ambassador  to  Napoleon  at  Malmaison  with  the 
demand  that  he  should  depart  at  once,  now  instructed 
this  ambassador  to  accompany  the  emperor  on  his  journey, 
and  not  to  leave  him  until  he  should  have  embarked. 

Napoleon  was  ready  to  comply  with  this  demand. 
He  determined  to  depart  on  the  afternoon  of  the  30th  of 
June.  He  had  nothing  more  to  do  but  to  take  leave  of 
his  friends  and  family.  He  did  this  with  cold,  tearless 
composure,  with  an  immovable,  iron  countenance ;  no 
muscle  of  his  face  quivered,  and  his  glance  was  severe- 
and  imperious. 

But,  when  Hortense  brought  in  her  two  sons,  when 
he  had  clasped  them  in  his  arms  for  the  last  time,  then  a- 
shadow  passed  over  his  countenance  ;  then  his  pale  com- 
pressed lips  quivered,  and  he  turned  away  to  conceal  the 
tears  that  stood  in  his  eyes. 

But  Hortense  had  seen  them,  and  in  her  heart  she 
preserved  the  remembrance  of  these  tears  as  the  most 
precious  gem  of  her  departed  fortune.  As  the  emperor 
then  turned  to  her  to  bid  her  adieu  in  his  former  cold 
and  immovable  manner,  Hortense,  who  well  knew  that  a 
volcano  of  torments  must  be  glowing  under  this  cold 
lava,  entreated  him  to  grant  her  a  last  favor. 

A  painful  smile  illumined  the  emperor's  countenance 


288  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

for  a  moment.  There  was,  it  seemed,  still  something 
that  he  could  grant ;  he  was  not  altogether  powerless ! 
With  a  mute  inclination  of  the  head  he  signified  his  as- 
sent.    Hortense  handed  him  a  broad  black  belt. 

"  Sire,"  said  she,  "  wear  this  belt  around  your  body 
and  beneath  your  clothing.  Conceal  it  carefully,  but  in 
the  time  of  necessity  remember  it  and  open  it." 

The  emperor  took  the  belt  in  his  hand,  and  its  weight 
startled  him. 

"What  does  it  contain?"  asked  he:  "I  must  know 
what  it  contains  ! " 

"  Sire,"  said  Hortense,  blushing  and  hesitating :  "  Sire, 
it  is  my  large  diamond  necklace  that  I  have  taken  apart 
and  sewed  in  this  belt.  Your  majesty  may  need  money 
in  a  critical  moment,  and  you  will  not  deny  me  this  last 
happiness,  your  acceptance  of  this  token." 

The  emperor  refused,  but  Hortense  entreated  him  so 
earnestly  that  he  was  at  last  compelled  to  yield,  and  accept 
this  love-offering. 

They  then  took  a  hasty  and  mute  leave  of  each  other, 
and  Hortense,  in  order  to  hide  her  tears,  hastened  with 
her  children  from  the  room. 

The  emperor  summoned  a  servant,  and  ordered  that 
no  one  else  should  be  admitted ;  but  at  this  moment  the 
door  was  hastily  thrown  open,  and  a  national  guard  en- 
tered the  room. 

"Talma!"  exclaimed  the  emperor,  almost  gayly,  as 
he  extended  his  hand. 

"  Yes,  Talma,  sire,"  said  he,  pressing  the  emperor's 


NAPOLEON'S  LAST  ADIEU.  289 

band  to  his  lips.  "  I  disguised  myself  in  this  dress,  in 
crder  that  I  might  get  here  to  take  leave  of  your 
majesty." 

"  To  take  leave,  never  to  see  each  other  more,"  said 
the  emperor,  sadly.  "  I  shall  never  be  able  to  admire 
joxL  in  your  great  rdles  again.  Talma.  I  am  about  to  de- 
part, never  to  return  again.  You  will  play  the  emperor 
on  many  an  evening,  but  not  I,  Talma  !  My  part  is  at 
an  end  ! " 

"  No,  sire,  you  will  always  remain  the  emperor  ! "  ex- 
claimed Talma,  with  generous  enthusiasm ;  "  the  emperor, 
although  without  the  crown  and  the  purple  robe." 

"  And  also  the  emperor  without  a  people,"  said  Na- 
poleon. 

"  Sire,  you  have  a  people  that  will  ever  remain  yours, 
snd  a  throne  that  is  imperishable  !  It  is  the  throne  that 
you  have  erected  for  yourself  on  the  battle-fields,  that 
will  be  recorded  in  the  books  of  history.  And  every  one, 
no  matter  to  what  nation  he  may  belong,  who  reads  of 
your  great  deeds,  will  be  inspired  by  them,  and  will  ac- 
knowledge himself  to  be  one  of  your  people,  and  bow 
down  before  the  emperor  in  reverence." 

"  I  have  no  people,"  murmured  Napoleon,  gloomily ; 
"  they  have  all  deserted — all  betrayed  me.  Talma !  " 

"  Sire,  they  will  some  day  regret,  as  Alexander  of  Kus- 
sia  will  also  one  day  regret,  having  deserted  the  great  man 
he  once  called  brother ! "  And,  in  his  delicate  and  gen- 
erous endeavor  to  remind  Napoleon  of  one  of  his  mo- 
ments of  grandeur,  Talma  continued :  "  Your  majesty 


-290  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

perhaps  remembers  that  evening  at  Tilsit,  when  the  Em- 
peror of  Kussia  made  yon  so  tender  a  declaration  of  his 
love,  publicly  and  before  the  whole  world  ?  But  no,  you 
cannot  remember  it ;  for  you  it  was  a  matter  of  no  mo- 
ment ;  but  I — I  shall  never  forget  it !  It  was  at  the  the- 
atre ;  we  were  playing  '  OEdipus.'  I  looked  up  at  the  box 
in  which  your  majesty  sat,  between  the  King  of  Prussia 
and  the  Emperor  Alexander.  I  could  see  you  only — the 
second  Alexander  of  Macedon,  the  second  Julius  Caesar 
— and  I  held  my  arms  aloft  and  saw  you  only  when  I  re- 
peated the  words  of  my  part :  '  The  friendship  of  a  great 
man  is  a  gift  of  the  gods  ! '  And  as  I  said  this,  the  Em- 
peror Alexander  arose  and  pressed  you  to  his  heart.  I 
saw  this,  and  tears  choked  my  utterance.  The  audience 
applauded  rapturously ;  this  applause  was,  however,  not 
for  me,  but  for  the  Emperor  Alexander  ! "  * 

While  Talma  was  speaking,  his  cheeks  glowing  and 
his  eyes  flashing,  a  rosy  hue  suffused  the  emperor's  coun- 
tenance, and,  for  an  instant,  he  smiled.  Talma  had  at- 
tained his  object ;  he  had  raised  up  the  humiliated  em- 
peror with  the  recital  of  his  own  grandeur. 

Napoleon  thanked  him  with  a  kindly  glance,  and  ex- 
tended his  hand  to  bid  him  adieu. 

As  Talma  approached  the  emperor,  a  carriage  was 
heard  driving  up  in  front  of  the  house.  It  was  Letitia, 
the  emperor's  mother,  who  had  come  to  take  leave  of  her 
son.     Talma  stood  still,  in  breathless  suspense ;  in  his 

*  This  scene  is  entirely  historical.  See  Bossuet,  Memoires ;  Bouf- 
•rienne,  Memoires ;  Cochelet  and  Une  Femme  de  Qualite. 


NAPOLEON'S  LAST  ADIEU.  ^9l 

heart  he  thanked  Providence  for  permitting  him  to  wit- 
ness this  leave-taking. 

"  Madame  mere  "  walked  past  Talma  in  silence,  and 
without  observing  him.  She  saw  only  her  son,  who 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  his  sombre  and  flashing 
glance  fastened  on  her  with  an  unutterable  expression. 
Now  they  stood  face  to  face,  mother  and  son.  The  em- 
peror's countenance  remained  immovable  as  though  hewn 
out  of  marble. 

They  stood  face  to  face  in  silence,  but  two  great  tears 
dowly  trickled  down  the  mother's  cheeks.  Talma  stood 
in  the  background,  weeping  bitterly.  Napoleon  remained 
unmoved.  Letitia  now  raised  both  hands  and  extended 
them  to  the  emperor.  "  Adieu,  my  son  I "  said  she,  in 
full  and  sonorous  tones. 

Napoleon  pressed  her  hands  in  his  own,  and  gazed  at 
her  long  and  fixedly ;  and  then,  with  the  same  firmness, 
he  said :  "  My  mother,  adieu !  " 

Once  more  they  gazed  at  each  other ;  then  the  em- 
peror let  her  hand  fall.  Letitia  turned  to  go,  and  at  this 
moment  General  Bertrand  appeared  at  the  door  to  an- 
nounce that  all  was  prepared  for  the  journey.* 

*  This  leave-taking  was  exactly  as  above  described,  and  Talma 
himself  narrated  it  to  Louise  de  Cochelet.  See  her  Memoires,  voL  ilL, 
J).  173. 


BOOK  lY. 
THE  DUCHE88  OF  ST.   LEU. 


CHAPTEK  I. 

THE   BANISHMENT   OF   THE   DUCHESS   OF   ST.  LETT. 

For  the  second  time,  the  Bourbons  had  entered  Paris 
under  the  protection  of  the  allies,  and  Louis  XYIII.  was 
once  more  King  of  France.  But  this  time  he  did  not 
return  with  his  former  mild  and  conciliatory  disposition. 
He  came  to  punish  and  to  reward ;  he  came  unaccom- 
panied by  mercy.  The  old  generals  and  marshals  of  the 
empire,  who  had  not  been  able  to  resist  their  chieftain's 
call,  were  now  banished,  degraded,  or  executed.  I^ey 
and  Lab^doyere  paid  for  their  fidelity  to  the  emperor 
"with  their  blood ;  and  all  who  were  in  any  way  connected 
with  the  Bonapartes  were  relentlessly  pursued.  The  cal- 
umnies that  had  been  circulated  in  1814  against  the 
Duchess  of  St.  Leu  were  now  to  bear  bitter  fruit.  These 
were  the  dragon's  teeth  from  which  the  armed  warriors 
had  sprung,  who  now  levelled  their  swords  at  the  breast 
of  a  defenceless  woman. 

King  Louis  had  returned  to  the  throne  of  his  fathers. 


THE  BANISHMENT  OF  THE  DUCHESS  OF  ST.  LEU.  29a 

but  he  had  not  forgotten  that  he  had  been  told  on  liia 
flight:  "The  Duchess  of  St.  Leu  is  to  blame  for  alll 
Her  intrigues  have  brought  Napoleon  back !  "  Now  that 
he  was  again  king,  he  thought  of  it,  and  determined  to- 
punish  her.  He  requested  it  of  Alexander,  as  a  favor, 
that  he  should  this  time  not  call  on  the  Duchess  of  St. 
Leu. 

The  emperor,  dismayed  by  the  odious  reports  in  cir-^ 
culation  v^oncerning  Hortense,  and  already  enchained  in 
the  mystic  glittering  web  with  which  Madame  de  Krii- 
dener  had  enveloped  him,  and  separated  from  the  reality 
of  the  world,  acceded  to  the  wishes  of  the  Bourbons,  and 
abandoned  the  queen.  This  was  the  signal  that  let  loose 
the  general  wrath  of  the  royalists ;  they  could  now  freely 
utter  their  scorn  and  malice.  By  low  calumnies  they 
could  now  compensate  themselves  for  their  humiliation 
of  the  past,  for  having  been  compelled  to  approach  the- 
daughter  of  Viscountess  de  Beauharnais  with  the  rever- 
ence due  to  a  queen. 

They  could  pursue  the  step-daughter  of  the  emperor 
with  boundless  fury,  for  this  very  fury  proved  their  roy- 
alism,  and  to  hate  and  calumniate  Bonaparte  and  hi& 
family  was  to  love  and  flatter  the  Bourbons. 

Day  by  day  these  royalists  hurled  new  accusations 
against  the  duchess,  whose  presence  in  Paris  unpleasantly 
recalled  the  days  of  the  empire,  and  whom  they  desired  to 
remove  from  their  sight,  as  well  as  the  column  on  the 
Place  Yenddme. 

While  the  poor  queen  was  living  in  the  retirement  of 


294  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

her  apartments,  in  sadness  and  desolation,  the  report  was 
circulated  that  she  was  again  conspiring,  and  that  she  was 
in  the  habit  of  leaving  her  house  every  evening  at  twi- 
light, in  order  to  incite  the  populace  to  rise  and  demand 
the  emperor's  return,  or  at  least  the  instalment  of  the 
little  King  of  Kome  on  the  throne  instead  of  Louis  de 
Bourbon. 

When  the  queen's  faithful  companion,  Louise  de 
Cochelet,  informed  her  of  these  calumnies,  Hortense  re- 
mained cold  and  indifierent. 

"Madame,"  exclaimed  Louise,  "you  listen  with  as 
much  composure  as  if  I  were  reciting  a  story  of  the  last 
century  ! " 

"And  it  interests  me  as  little,"  said  Hortense,  ear- 
nestly ;  "  we  have  lost  all,  and  I  consider  any  blow  that 
may  still  strike  us,  with  the  composure  of  an  indifferent 
spectator.  I  consider  it  natural  that  they  should  endeavor 
to  caluminate  me,  because  I  bear  a  name  that  has  made 
the  whole  world  tremble,  and  that  will  still  be  great, 
though  we  all  be  trodden  in  the  dust.  But  I  will  shield 
myself  and  children  from  this  hatred.  We  will  leave 
France  and  go  to  Switzerland,  where  I  possess  a  little  es- 
tate on  the  Lake  of  Geneva." 

But  time  was  not  allowed  the  duchess  to  prepare  for 
her  departure.  The  dogs  of  calumny  and  hatred  were 
]et  loose  upon  her  to  drive  her  from  the  city.  A  def ence- 
iess  woman  with  two  young  children  seemed  to  be  an  ob- 
ject of  anxiety  and  terror  to  the  government,  and  it  made 
iiaste  to  get  rid  of  her. 


THE  BANISHMENT  OF  THE  DUCHESS  OP  ST.  LEU.  295 

On  the  morning  of  the  17th  of  July,  an  adjutant  of 
the  Prussian  General  de  Muffling,  the  allied  commandant 
of  Paris,  came  to  the  dwelling  of  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu, 
and  informed  her  intendant,  M.  Deveaux,  that  the  duchess 
must  leave  Paris  within  two  hours,  and  it  was  only  at  the 
urgent  solicitation  of  the  intendant,  that  a  further  sojourn 
of  four  hours  was  allowed  her. 

Hortense  was  compelled  to  conform  to  this  military 
command,  and  depart  without  arranging  her  affairs  or 
making  any  preparations  for  her  journey.  Her  only  pos- 
session consisted  of  jewelry,  and  this  she  of  course  in- 
tended to  take  with  her.  But  she  was  warned  that  a 
troop  of  enraged  Bourbonists,  who  knew  of  her  approach- 
ing departure,  had  quitted  Paris  to  lie  in  wait  for  her  on 
her  road,  "  in  order  to  rob  her  of  the  millions  in  her  cus- 
tody." 

The  queen  was  warned  to  take  no  money  or  articles  of 
value  with  her,  but  only  that  which  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary. 

Greneral  de  Miiffling  offered  her  an  escort  of  his  sol- 
diers ;  Hortense  declined  this  offer,  but  requested  that  an 
Austrian  officer  might  be  allowed  to  accompany  her  for 
the  protection  of  herself  and  children  on  the  journey. 
Count  de  Boyna,  adjutant  of  Prince  Schwartzenberg,  wa» 
selected  for  this  purpose. 

On  the  evening  of  the  17th  of  July,  1815,  the  Duch- 
ess of  St.  Leu  took  her  departure.  She  left  her  faithful 
friend  Louise  de  Cochelet  in  Paris  to  arrange  her  affairs, 
and  assure  the  safe-keeping  of  her  jewelry.    Accompanied 


296  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

only  by  her  equerry,  M.  de  Marmold,  Count  Boyna,  her 
children,  her  maid,  and  a  man-servant,  she  who  had  been 
a  queen  left  Paris  to  go  into  exile. 

It  was  a  sorrowful  journey  that  Hortense  now  made 
through  her  beloved  France,  that  she  could  no  longer  call 
her  country,  and  that  now  seemed  as  ill-disposed  toward 
the  emperor  and  his  family  as  it  had  once  passionately 
loved  them. 

In  these  days  of  political  persecution,  the  Bonapartists 
had  everywhere  hidden  themselves  in  obscure  places,  or 
concealed  their  real  disposition  beneath  the  mask  of  Bour- 
bonism.  Those  whom  Hortense  met  on  her  journey  were 
therefore  all  royalists,  who  thought  they  could  give  no 
better  testimony  to  their  patriotism  than  by  persecuting 
with  cries  of  scorn,  with  gestures  of  hatred,  and  with  loud 
curses,  the  woman  whose  only  crime  was  that  she  bore  the 
name  of  him  whom  France  had  once  adored,  and  whom 
the  royalists  hated. 

Count  Boyna  was  more  than  once  compelled  to  pro- 
tect Hortense  and  her  children  against  the  furious  attacks 
of  royalists — the  stranger  against  her  own  countrymen ! 
In  Dijon,  Count  Boyna  had  found  it  necessary  to  call  on 
the  Austrian  military  stationed  there  for  assistance  in 
protecting  the  duchess  and  her  children  from  the  attacks 
of  an  infuriated  crowd,  led  by  royal  guards  and  beautiful 
ladies  of  rank,  whose  hair  was  adorned  with  the  lilies  of 
the  Bourbons.* 

Dispirited  and  broken  down  by  all  she  had  seen  and 

*  Cochelet.  vol.  iii.,  p.  289. 


THE  BANISHMENT  OF  THE  DUCHESS  OF  ST.  LEU.  297 

experienced,  Hortense  at  last  reached  Geneva,  liappy  at 
the  prospect  of  being  able  to  retire  to  her  little  estate  of 
Pregny,  to  repose  after  the  storms  of  life.  But  this  ref- 
uge was  also  to  be  refused  her.  The  French  ambassador 
in  Switzerland,  who  resided  in  Geneva,  informed  the 
authorities  of  that  city  that  his  government  would  not 
tolerate  the  queen's  sojourn  so  near  the  French  bound- 
ary, and  demanded  that  she  should  depart.  The  au- 
thorities of  Geneva  complied  with  this  demand,  and 
ordered  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu  to  leave  the  city  im- 
mediately. 

When  Count  Boyna  imparted  this  intelligence  to  the 
duchess,  and  asked  her  to  what  place  she  would  now  go, 
her  long-repressed  despair  found  utterance  in  a  single 
cry :  "  I  know  not.  Throw  me  into  the  lake,  then  we 
shall  all  be  at  rest !  " 

But  she  soon  recovered  her  usual  proud  resignation, 
and  quietly  submitted  to  the  new  banishment  that  drove 
her  from  her  last  possession,  the  charming  little  Pregny, 
from  her  **  rSve  de  chaleV^ 

In  Aix  she  finally  found  repose  and  peace  for  a  few 
weeks — in  Aix,  where  she  had  once  celebrated  brilliant 
triumphs  as  a  queen,  and  where  she  was  at  least  permitted 
to  live  in  retirement  with  her  children  and  a  few  faithful 
adherents. 

But  in  Aix  the  most  fearful  blow  that  Fate  had  in 
store  for  her  fell  upon  her  I 

Her  action  against  her  husband  had  already  been  de- 
cided in  1814,  shortly  before  the  emperor's  return,  and  it 
'SO 


298  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

had  been  adjudged  that  she  should  deliver  her  elder  son, 
Napoleon  Louis,  into  the  custody  of  his  father.  Now 
that  Napoleon's  will  no  longer  restrained  him,  Louis  de- 
manded that  this  judgment  be  carried  out,  and  sent  Baron 
von  Zuyten  to  Aix  to  bring  back  the  prince  to  his  father, 
then  residing  in  Florence. 

The  unhappy  mother  was  now  powerless  to  resist  this 
hard  command ;  she  was  compelled  to  yield,  and  send  her 
son  from  her  arms  to  a  father  who  was  a  stranger  to  the 
boy,  and  whom  he  therefore  could  not  love. 

It  was  a  heart-rending  scene  this  parting  between  the 
boy,  his  mother,  and  his  young  brother  Louis,  from  whom 
he  had  never  before  been  separated  for  a  day,  and  who 
now  threw  his  arms  around  his  neck,  tearfully  entreating 
him  to  stay  with  him. 

But  the  separation  was  inevitable.  Hortense  parted 
the  two  weeping  children,  taking  little  Louis  Napoleon 
in  her  arms,  while  Napoleon  Louis  followed  his  governor 
to  the  carriage,  sobbing  as  though  his  heart  would  break. 
When  Hortense  heard  the  carriage  driving  off,  she  ut- 
tered a  cry  of  anguish  and  fell  to  the  ground  in  a  swoon, 
and  a  long  and  painful  attack  of  illness  was  the  conse- 
quence of  this  sorrowful  separation. 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AS  A  CHILD. 
CHAPTER  II. 

LOUIS   NAPOLEON   AS   A   CHILD. 

The  Duchess  of  St.  Leu  was,  however,  not  destined 
to  find  repose  in  Aix ;  the  Bourbons — not  yet  weary  of 
persecuting  her,  and  still  fearing  the  name  whose  first 
and  greatest  representative  was  now  languishing  on  a 
solitary,  inhospitable  rock-island  —  the  Bourbons  con- 
sidered it  dangerous  that  Hortense,  the  emperor's  step- 
daughter, and  her  son,  whose  name  of  Louis  Napoleon 
seemed  to  them  a  living  monument  of  the  past,  should 
be  permitted  to  sojourn  so  near  the  French  boundary. 
They  therefore  instructed  their  ambassador  to  the  govern- 
ment of  Savoy  to  protest  against  the  further  sojourn  of 
the  queen  in  Aix,  and  Hortense  was  compelled  to  under- 
take a  new  pilgrimage,  and  to  start  out  into  the  world 
again  in  search  of  a  home. 

She  first  turned  to  Baden,  whose  duchess,  Stephanie^ 
was  so  nearly  related  to  her,  and  from  whose  husband 
she  might  therefore  well  expect  a  kindly  reception.  But 
the  grand-duke  did  not  justify  his  cousin's  hopes ;  he  had 
not  the  courage  to  defy  the  jealous  fears  of  France,  and 
it  was  only  at  the  earnest  solicitation  of  his  wife  that  he 
at  last  consented  that  Hortense  should  take  up  her  resi- 
dence at  the  extreme  end  of  the  grand-duchy,  at  Con- 
stance, on  the  Lake  of  Constance ;  and  this  permission 
was  only  accorded  her  on  the  express  condition  that 
neither  the  duchess  nor  her  son  should  ever  come  to 


300  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

Oarlsrulie,  and  that  his  wife,  Stephanie,  should  never 
visit  her  cousin  at  Constance. 

Hortense  accepted  tliis  offer  with  its  conditions,  con- 
tented to  find  a  place  where  she  could  rest  after  her  long 
wanderings,  and  let  the  bleeding  wounds  of  her  heart 
heal  in  the  stillness  and  peace  of  beautiful  natural  scen- 
ery. She  passed  a  few  quiet,  happy  years  in  Constance, 
desiring  and  demanding  nothing  but  a  little  rest  and 
peace,  aspiring  to  but  one  thing — to  make  of  the  son, 
whom  Providence  had  given  her  as  a  compensation  for 
;all  her  sufferings,  a  strong,  a  resolute,  and  an  intelligent 
man. 

Her  most  tender  care  and  closest  attention  were  de- 
voted to  the  education  of  this  son.  An  excellent  teacher. 
Prof.  Lebas,  of  Paris,  officiated  as  instructor  to  the  young 
prince.  She  herself  gave  him  instruction  in  drawing,  in 
music,  and  in  dancing;  she  read  with  him,  sang  with 
Hm,  and  made  herself  a  child,  in  order  to  replace  to 
her  lonely  boy  the  playmate  Fate  had  torn  from  his 
side. 

While  reposing  on  her  chaise-longue  on  the  long 
quiet  evenings,  her  boy  seated  on  a  cushion  at  her  feet, 
fihe  would  speak  to  him  of  his  great  uncle,  and  of  his 
heroic  deeds,  and  of  his  country,  of  France  that  had  dis^ 
•carded  them,  to  be  able  to  return  to  which  was,  however, 
her  most  ardent  wish,  and  would  continue  to  be  while 
life  lasted.  She  would  then  inspire  the  boy's  soul  with  the 
description  of  the  great  battles  which  his  uncle  had  won 
in  Italy,  on  the  Nile,  on  the  Khine,  and  on  the  Danube ; 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AS  A  CHILD.  301 

and  the  quiet,  pale  boy,  with  the  dark,  thoughtful  eyes, 
would  listen  in  breathless  suspense,  his  weak,  slender 
body  quivering  with  emotion  when  his  mother  told  him 
how  dearly  his  uncle  had  loved  France,  and  that  all  his 
great  and  glorious  deeds  had  been  done  for  the  honor  and 
renown  of  France  alone. 

One  day,  while  he  was  sitting  before  her,  pale  and 
trembling  with  agitation,  his  mother  pointed  to  David's 
splendid  painting,  representing  Napoleon  on  the  heights 
of  the  Alps,  the  genial  conception  of  which  painting  is 
due  to  Napoleon's  own  suggestions. 

"  Paint  me  tranquilly  seated  on  a  wild  horse,"  Napo- 
leon had  said  to  David,  and  David  had  so  painted  him — 
on  a  rearing  steed,  on  the  summit  of  a  rock  which  bears 
the  inscription  "  Hannibal "  and  "  Csesar."  The  em- 
peror's countenance  is  calm,  his  large  eyes  full  of  a  mys- 
terious brilliancy,  his  hair  fluttering  in  the  wind,  the 
whole  expression  thoughtful  and  earnest ;  the  rider 
heedless  of  the  rearing  steed,  which  he  holds  firmly  in 
check  with  the  reins. 

A  beautiful  copy  of  this  great  painting  hung  in  the 
parlor  of  the  duchess ;  and  to  this  she  now  pointed  while 
narrating  the  history  of  the  emperor's  passage  over  the 
Great  St.  Bernard  with  an  army,  a  feat  never  before  per- 
formed except  by  Hannibal  and  Csesar,  and  perhaps  never 
to  be  performed  again. 

As  she  concluded  her  narrative,  an  almost  angry  ex- 
presfiion  flitted  across  the  young  prince's  countenance. 
Rising  from  his  seat,  and  holding  himself  perfectly  erect, 


302  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

lie  exclaimed :  "  Oh,  mamma,  I  shall  also  cross  the  Alps 
some  day,  as  the  emperor  did !  " 

And  while  thus  speaking,  a  glowing  color  suffused 
his  face ;  his  lips  trembled,  and  the  feverish  beating  of 
his  heart  was  quite  audible. 

Hortense  turned  in  some  anxiety  to  her  friend  Louise 
de  Cochelet,  and  begged  her  in  a  low  voice  to  soothe 
the  child  with  the  recital  of  some  merry  narrative.  As 
Louise  looked  around  the  room  thoughtfully  and  search- 
ingly,  a  cup  that  stood  on  the  mantel-piece  arrested  her 
gaze.  She  hastened  to  the  mantel,  took  the  cup,  and 
returned  with  it  to  little  Louis  ISTapoleon. 

"  Mamma  has  been  explaining  a  very  grave  picture 
to  you,  Louis,"  said  she ;  "  I  will  now  show  you  a  merry 
one.     Look  at  it — isn't  it  charming  ? " 

The  prince  cast  a  hasty,  absent-minded  look  at  the 
cup,  and  nodded  gravely.     Louise  laughed  gayly. 

"  You  see,  Louis,"  said  she,  "  that  this  is  the  exact 
counterpart  of  the  picture  of  the  Emperor  Napoleon, 
who,  while  riding  over  the  Alps,  encounters  on  their 
summit  the  great  spirits  of  Hannibal  and  Caesar.  Here 
is  a  little  N'apoleon,  who  is  not  climbing  up  the  Alps, 
but  climbing  down  from  his  bed,  and  who,  on  this  occa- 
sion, meets  a  black  spirit,  in  the  person  of  a  chimney- 
sweep. This  is  the  history  of  the  great  and  of  the  little 
JS'apoleon  ;  the  great  meets  Hannibal,  the  little  the  chim- 
ney-sweep." 

"  Am  I  the  little  ITapoleon  ? "  asked- the  boy,  gravely. 

"Yes,  Louis,  you  are,  and  I  will  now  tell  you  the 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AS  A  CHILD.  303 

story  of  this  cup.  One  day,  when  we  were  all  still  in 
Paris,  and  while  your  great  uncle  was  still  Emperor  of 
France — one  day,  you  met  in  your  room  a  little  Savoy- 
ard, who  had  just  crept  out  of  the  chimney  in  his  black 
dress,  his  black  broom  in  his  hand.  You  cried  out  with 
horror,  and  were  about  to  run  away,  but  I  held  you  back 
and  told  yoii  that  these  chimney-sweeps  were  poor  boys, 
and  that  their  parents  were  so  poor  that  they  could  not 
support  their  children,  but  were  compelled  to  send  them 
to  Paris  to  earn  their  bread  by  creeping  into  and  clean- 
ing our  hot  and  dirty  chimneys,  with  great  trouble,  and 
at  the  risk  of  their  lives.  My  story  touched  you,  and 
you  promised  me  never  to  be  afraid  of  the  little  chinmey- 
sweeps  again.  A  short  time  afterward,  you  were  awak- 
ened early  in  the  morning  by  a  strange  noise,  your  broth- 
er still  lay  asleep  at  your  side,  and  your  nurse  was  absent 
from  the  room.  This  noise  was  made  by  a  chimney- 
sweep who  had  just  come  down  the  chimney  and  now 
stood  in  your  room.  As  soon  as  you  saw  him,  you  re- 
membered his  poverty,  jumped  out  of  bed  in  your  night- 
clothes,  and  ran  to  the  chair  on  which  your  clothes  lay. 
You  took  out  of  your  pocket  the  purse  you  were  com- 
pelled to  carry  with  you  on  your  walks  to  give  money  to 
the  poor,  and  you  emptied  its  entire  contents  into  the 
black,  sooty  hand  of  the  young  Savoyard.  You  then 
tried  to  get  back  to  bed,  but  it  was  too  high  for  you; 
you  could  not  climb  over  the  railing.  Seeing  this,  the 
chimney-sweep  came  to  your  assistance,  and  took  the 
little  prince  in  his  arms  to  help  him  into  bed.     At  this 


304  QUEEN  HORTBNSB. 

moment,  your  nurse  entered  the  room,  and  your  brother, 
who  had  just  awakened,  cried  loudly  when  he  saw  Louis 
in  the  arms  of  a  chimney-sweep. 

"  This  is  the  story  of  little  Napoleon  and  the  chim- 
ney-sweep !  Your  grandmother,  the  Empress  Josephine, 
was  so  much  pleased  with  this  story,  that  your  mother 
had  the  scene  painted  on  a  cup,  and  presented  it  to  the 
empress,  in  order  to  afford  her  a  gratification.  And  what 
do  you  think,  Louis — this  cup  was  also  the  cause  of  a 
punishment  being  remitted  your  cousin,  the  King  of 
Rome,  who  now  lives  in  Vienna ! " 

"'  Tell  me  all  about  it,  Louise,"  said  the  prince,  smiling. 

"  You  shall  hear  it !  Your  mother  had  instructed  me 
to  take  the  cup  to  Malmaison  to  the  empress.  But  be- 
fore going,  I  endeavored  to  obtain  some  news  about 
the  little  King  of  Rome  for  the  empress.  Your  good 
grandmother  loved  him  as  though  he  had  been  her  own 
child,  although  she  had  never  seen  him.  I  therefore 
went  to  the  Tuileries  to  see  the  little  King  of  Rome, 
with  whose  governess,  Madame  de  Montesquieu,  I  was 
intimately  acquainted.  On  entering  the  apartment,  I 
saw  the  king  cowering  behind  a  chair  in  a  corner  of  the 
room ;  Madame  de  Montesquieu  intimated  by  a  look  that 
he  was  undergoing  a  punishment ;  I  understood  it,  and 
first  conversed  with  his  governess  for  a  short  time. 
When  I  then  turned  and  approached  him,  he  concealed 
the  tearful,  flushed  face,  that  his  long  blond  curls  covered 
as  with  a  golden  veil,  whenever  he  moved  behind  the 
chair. 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AS  A  CHILD.  305 

"  *  Sire,'  said  Madanie  de  Montesquieu  to  him,  *  sire, 
do  you  not  intend  to  bid  Mademoiselle  de  Cochelet  good- 
morning  ?     She  came  here  expressly  to  see  you.' 

"  *  Your  majesty  does  not  recognize  me,'  said  I,  at- 
tempting to  take  his  small  hand  in  mine.  He  tore  it 
from  me,  and  cried  in  a  voice  almost  choked  with  sob- 
bing :  *  She  will  not  let  me  look  at  the  soldiers  of  my  papa ! '' 

"Madame  de  Montesquieu  told  me  that  it  was  the 
little  prince's  greatest  pleasure  to  see  the  Guards  exercis- 
ing on  the  Place  de  Ca/rT(ymel^  but  that  she  had  deprived 
him  of  this  pleasure  to-day,  because  he  had  been  naughty 
and  disobedient ;  that,  when  he  heard  the  music  and 
drums,  his  despair  and  anger  had  become  so  great  that 
she  had  been  forced  to  resort  to  severe  means,  and  make 
him  stand  in  the  corner  behind  a  chair.  I  begged  for 
the  young  king's  pardon;  I  showed  him  the  cup,  and 
explained  the  scene  that  was  painted  on  it.  The  king 
laughed,  and  Madame  de  Montesquieu  pardoned  him  for 
the  sake  of  his  little  cousin,  Louis  Napoleon,  who  was  so 
well  behaved,  and  who  was  always  held  up  to  him  as  a 
model.*  Now  you  have  heard  the  whole  story,  are  you 
pleased  with  it,  Louis  ? " 

"  I  like  it  very  much,"  said  the  grave  boy,  "  but  I  do 
not  like  my  cousin's  governess,  for  having  intended  to 
prevent  him  from  looking  at  his  father's  soldiers.  Oh, 
how  handsome  they  must  have  been,  the  soldiers  of  the 
emperor !  Mamma,  I  wish  I  were  also  an  emperor,  and 
had  ever  so  many  handsome  soldiers." 

♦  Cochelet,  vol.  i.,  p.  212. 


306  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

Hortense  smiled  sadly,  and  laid  her  hand  on  the  boy's 
head  as  if  to  bless  him.  "  Oh,  my  son,"  said  she,  "  it  is 
no  enviable  fortune  to  wear  a  crown.  It  is  almost  al- 
ways fastened  on  our  head  with  thorns  ! " 

From  this  day  on,  Prince  Louis  Napoleon  would 
stand  before  his  uncle's  portrait,  lost  in  thought,  and, 
after  looking  at  it  to  his  satisfaction,  he  would  run  out 
and  call  the  boys  of  the  neighborhood  together,  in  order 
to  play  soldier  and  emperor  with  them  in  the  large  gar- 
den that  surrounded  his  mother's  house,  and  teach  the 
boys  the  first  exercise. 

One  day,  in  the  zeal  of  play,  he  had  entirely  forgotten 
his  mother's  command,  not  to  go  out  of  the  garden,  and 
had  marched  into  the  open  field  with  his  soldiers.  When 
his  absence  from  the  garden  was  noticed,  all  the  servants 
were  sent  out  to  look  for  him,  and  the  anxious  duchess, 
together  with  her  ladies,  assisted  in  this  search,  walking 
about  in  every  direction  through  the  cold  and  the  slush 
of  the  thawing  snow.  Suddenly  they  came  upon  the 
boy  barefooted  and  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  wading  toward 
them  through  the  mud  and  snow.  He  was  alarmed  and 
confused  at  this  unexpected  meeting,  and  confessed  that 
a  moment  before,  while  he  had  been  playing  in  front  of 
the  garden,  a  family  had  passed  by  so  poor  and  ragged 
that  it  was  painful  to  look  at  them.  As  he  had  no 
money  to  give  them,  he  had  put  his  shoes  on  one  child, 
and  his  coat  on  another."^ 

The  duchess  did  not  have  the  courage  to  scold  him  •; 

*  Cochelet,  vol.  ir.,  p.  303. 


THE  REVOLUTION  OF  1880.  307 

she  stooped  down  and  kissed  her  son  ;  but  when  her  ladies 
commenced  to  praise  him,  she  motioned  to  them  to  be 
silent,  and  said  in  a  loud  voice  that  what  her  son  had 
done  was  quite  a  matter  of  course,  and  therefore  deserved 
no  praise. 

An  ardent  desire  to  gladden  others  and  make  them 
presents  was  characteristic  of  little  Louis  Napoleon.  One 
day,  Hortense  had  given  him  three  beautiful  studs  for  his 
shirt,  and  on  the  same  day  the  prince  transferred  them  to 
one  of  his  friends  who  admired  them. 

When  Hortense  reproached  her  son  for  doing  so,  and 
threatened  to  make  him  no  more  presents,  as  he  always 
gave  them  away  again  directly,  Louis  Napoleon  replied, 
"  Ah,  mamma,  this  is  why  your  presents  give  me  double 
pleasure — once  when  you  give  them  to  me,  and  the  sec- 
ond time  when  I  make  others  happy  with  them."  * 


CHAPTER  IIL 

THE   EEVOLUnON   OF   1830. 

Fate  seemed  at  last  weary  of  persecuting  the  poor 
Duchess  of  St.  Leu.  It  at  least  accorded  her  a  few  peace- 
ful years  of  repose  and  comfort ;  it  at  least  permitted  her 
to  rest  from  the  weariness  of  the  past  on  the  bosom  of 
Nature,  and  to  forget  her  disappointments  and  sorrows. 
The  Canton  of  Thurgau  had  had  the  courage  to  extend 

♦  Cochelet,  vol.  i,  p.  855. 


308  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

permission  to  the  duchess  to  take  up  her  residence  within 
its  borders,  at  the  very  moment  when  the  Grand-duke  of 
Baden,  who  had  been  urged  to  the  step  by  Germany  and 
France,  had  peremptorily  ordered  Hortense  to  leave  Con- 
stance and  his  grand-duchy  without  delay. 

Hortense  had  thankfully  accepted  the  offer  of  the 
Swiss  canton,  and  had  purchased,  on  the  Swiss  side  of  the 
Lake  of  Constance,  an  estate,  whose  beautiful  situation  on 
the  summit  of  a  mountain,  immediately  on  the  banks  of 
the  lake,  with  its  magnificent  view  of  the  surrounding 
country,  and  its  glittering  glaciers  on  the  distant  horizon, 
made  it  a  most  delightful  place  of  sojourn.  Hortense 
now  caused  the  furniture  of  her  dwelling  in  Paris,  that 
had  been  sold,  to  be  sent  to  her.  The  sight  of  these  evi- 
dences of  her  former  grandeur  awakened  sweet  and  bitter 
emotions  in  her  heart,  as  they  were  one  after  another 
taken  out  of  the  cases  in  which  they  had  been  packed — 
these  sofas,  chairs,  divans,  carpets,  chandeliers,  mirrors, 
and  all  the  other  ornaments  of  the  parlors  in  which  Hor- 
tense had  been  accustomed  to  receive  kings  and  emperors, 
and  which  were  now  to  adorn  the  Swiss  villa  that  was 
outwardly  so  beautiful  because  of  the  vicinity,  and  in- 
wardly so  plain  and  simple. 

But  Hortense  knew  how  to  make  an  elegant  and  taste- 
ful disposition  of  all  these  articles  ;  she  herself  arranged 
every  thing  in  her  house,  and  took  true  feminine  delight 
in  her  task.  And  when  all  was  at  last  arranged — when 
she  walked,  with  her  son  at  her  side,  through  the  suite  of 
rooms,  in  which  every  ornament  and  piece  of  furniture 


THE  REVOLUTION  OF  1880.  809 

reminded  her  of  the  past — when  these  things  recalled  the 
proud  days  of  state  when  so  many  friends,  relatives,  and 
servants,  had  surrounded  her — a  feeling  of  unutterable 
loneliness,  of  painful  desolation,  came  over  her,  and  she 
sank  down  on  a  sofa  and  wept  bitterly.  But  there  was 
nevertheless  a  consolation  in  having  these  familiar  articles 
in  her  possession  once  more ;  these  mute  friends  often 
awakened  in  the  soHtary  queen's  heart  memories  that 
served  to  entertain  and  console  her.  Arenenberg  was  a 
perfect  temple  of  memory ;  every  chair,  every  table, 
every  article  of  furniture,  had  its  history,  and  this  his- 
tory spoke  of  Kapoleon,  of  Josephine,  and  the  great  days 
of  the  empire. 

In  Arenenberg  Hortense  had  at  last  found  a  perma- 
nent home,  and  there  she  passed  the  greater  part  of  the 
year ;  and  it  was  only  when  the  autumnal  storms  began 
to  howl  through  her  open  and  lightly-constructed  villa, 
that  Hortense  repaired  to  Kome,  to  pass  the  winter 
months  in  a  more  genial  climate,  while  her  son  Louis 
Napoleon  was  pursuing  his  studies  at  the  artillery  school 
at  Thun. 

And  thus  the  years  passed  on,  quiet  and  peaceful, 
though  sometimes  interrupted  by  new  losses  and  sorrows. 
In  the  year  1821  the  hero,  the  emperor,  to  whose  laurel- 
crown  the  halo  of  a  martyr  had  now  also  been  added,  died 
on  the  island-rock,  St.  Helena. 

In  the  year  1824  Hortense  lost  her  only  brother,  Eu- 
gene, the  Duke  of  Leuchtenberg. 

The  only  objects  of  Hortense's  love  were  now  her 


310  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

two  sons,  who  were  prospering  in  mind  and  body,  and 
were  the  pride  and  joy  of  their  mother,  and  an  object  of 
annoyance  and  suspicion  to  all  the  princes  of  Europe. 
For  these  children  bore  in  their  countenance,  in  their 
name,  and  in  their  disposition,  too  plain  an  impress  of 
the  great  past,  which  they  could  never  entirely  ignore 
while  Bonaparte  still  lived  to  testify  to  it. 

And  they  lived  and  prospered  in  spite  of  the  Bour- 
bons ;  they  lived  and  prospered,  although  banished  from 
their  country,  and  compelled  to  lead  an  inactive  life. 

But  at  last  it  seemed  as  though  the  hour  of  fortune 
and  freedom  had  come  for  these  Bonapartes — as  though 
they,  too,  were  to  be  permitted  to  have  a  country  to  which 
they  might  give  their  devotion  and  services. 

The  thundering  voice  of  the  revolution  of  1830  re- 
sounded throughout  trembling  Europe.  France,  on  whom 
the  allies  had  imposed  the  Bourbons,  arose  and  shook  its 
mane  ;  with  its  lion's  paw  it  overthrew  the  Bourbon 
throne,  drove  out  the  Jesuits  who  had  stood  behind  it, 
and  whom  Charles  X.  had  advised  to  tear  the  charter  to 
pieces,  to  destroy  the  freedom  of  the  press,  and  to  rein- 
troduce the  autos  dafe  of  the  olden  time. 

France  had  been  treated  as  a  child  in  1815,  and  was 
now  determined  to  assert  its  manhood;  it  resolved  to 
break  entirely  with  the  past,  and  with  its  own  strength 
to  build  up  a  future  for  itself. 

The  lilies  of  the  Bourbons  were  to  bloom  no  more ; 
these  last  years  of  fanatical  Jesuit  tyranny  had  deprived 
them  of  hfe,  and  France  tore  the  faded  lily  from  her 


THE  REVOLUTION  OP  1830.  311 

bosom  in  order  to  replace  it  with  a  youDg  and  vigorous 
plant.  The  throne  of  the  Bourbons  was  overthrown,  but 
the  people,  shuddering  at  the  recollection  of  the  sangui- 
nary republic,  selected  a  king  in  preference.  It  stretched 
out  its  hand  after  him  it  held  dearest ;  after  him  who  in 
the  past  few  years  had  succeeded  in  winning  the  sym- 
pathy of  France.  It  selected  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  the 
son  of  Philippe  Egalit^,  for  its  king. 

Louis  Philippe,  the  enthusiastic  republican  of  1Y90, 
who  at  that  time  had  caused  the  three  words  "  Liherte, 
£galite,  Fratemite^^^  and  the  inscription  "  Vive  la  Re- 
puhlique,^^  to  be  burnt  on  his  arm,  in  order  to  prove  his 
republicanism ;  the  proscribed  Louis  Philippe,  who  had 
wandered  through  Europe  a  fugitive,  earning  his  bread 
by  teaching  writing  and  languages — the  same  Louis 
Philippe  now  became  King  of  France. 

The  people  called  him  to  the  throne ;  they  tore  the 
white  flag  from  the  roof  of  the  Tuileries,  but  they  knew 
no  other  or  better  one  with  which  to  replace  it  than  the 
t/ricolore  of  the  empire. 

Under  the  shadow  of  this  tricolore  Louis  Philippe 
mounted  the  throne,  and  the  people — to  whom  the  three 
colors  recalled  the  glorious  era  of  the  empire — the  people 
shouted  with  delight,  and  in  order  to  indulge  their  sym- 
pathies they  demanded  for  France — not  the  son  of  Na- 
poleon, not  Napoleon  II. — but  the  ashes  of  Napoleon, 
and  the  emperor's  statue  on  the  Palace  Yendome.  Louis 
Philippe  accorded  them  both,  but  with  these  concessions 
he  thought  he  had  done  enough.     He  had  accepted  the 


312  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

tricolore  of  the  empire;  he  had  promised  that  the  em- 
peror should  watch  over  Paris  from  the  summit  of  the 
Yendome  monument,  and  to  cause  his  ashes  to  be  brought 
to  Paris — these  were  suflScient  proofs  of  love. 

The  J  might  be  accorded  the  dead  l!^apoleon  without 
danger,  but  it  would  be  worse  to  accord  them  to  living 
Kapoleons ;  such  a  course  might  easily  shake  the  new 
throne,  and  recall  the  allies  to  Paris. 

The  hatred  of  the  princes  of  Europe  against  Napo- 
leon was  still  continued  against  his  family,  and  it  wa& 
with  them,  as  Metternich  said,  "  a  principle  never  to 
tolerate  another  Napoleon  on  the  throne." 

The  European  powers  liad  signified  to  the  King  of 
France,  through  their  diplomatic  agents,  their  readiness  to 
acknowledge  him,  but  they  exacted  one  condition — the 
condition  that  Louis  Philippe  should  confirm  or  renew 
the  decree  of  exile  fulminated  by  the  Bourbons  against 
the  Bonapartes. 

Louis  Philippe  had  accepted  this  condition ;  and  the 
Bonapartes,  whose  only  crime  was  that  they  were  the 
brothers  and  relatives  of  the  deceased  emperor,  before 
whom  not  only  France,  but  all  the  princes  of  Europe, 
had  once  bent  the  knee — the  Bonapartes  were  once  more 
declared  strangers  to  their  country,  and  condemned  to 
exile  I 


THE  REVOLUTION  IN  ROMK  313 

CHAPTER  lY. 

THB   BEVOLUnON   IN   KOME,   AND   THE   SONS   OF   HOETENSE. 

It  was  a  terrible  blow  to  the  Bonapartes,  this  new 
decree  of  banishment!  Like  a  stroke  of  lightning  it 
entered  their  hearts,  annihilating  their  holiest  hopes  and 
most  ardent  desires,  and  their  joy  over  the  glorious  and 
heroic  revolution  of  July  gave  place  to  a  bitter  sense  of 
disappointment. 

Nothing,  therefore,  remained  for  them  but  to  con- 
tinue the  life  to  which  they  had  become  somewhat  ac- 
customed, and  to  console  themselves,  for  their  new  dis- 
Appointment,  with  the  arts  and  sciences. 

At  the  end  of  October,  in  the  year  1830,  Hortense 
determined  to  leave  Arenenberg  and  go  to  Rome  with 
her  son,  as  she  was  in  the  habit  of  doing  every  year. 

But  this  time  she  first  went  to  Florence,  where  her 
elder  son,  Napoleon  Louis,  recently  married  to  his  cousin, 
the  second  daughter  of  King  Joseph,  was  now  living 
with  his  young  wife.  The  heart  of  the  tender  mother 
was  filled  with  anxiety  and  care ;  she  felt  and  saw  that 
this  new  French  Revolution  was  likely  to  infect  all  Eu- 
rope, and  that  Italy,  above  all,  would  be  unable  to  avoid 
this  infection.  Italy  was  diseased  to  the  core,  and  it  was 
to  be  feared  that  it  would  grasp  at  desperate  means  in 
its  agony,  and  proceed  to  the  blood-letting  of  a  revolu- 
tion, in  order  to  restore  itself  to  health.    Hortense  felt 

this,  and  feared  for  her  sons. 
31 


314  QUEEN  HORTENSB. 

She  feared  that  the  exiled,  the  homeless  ones,  who 
had  been  driven  from  their  country,  and  were  not  per- 
mitted to  serve  it,  would  devote  their  services  to  those 
who  were  unhappy  and  who  suffered  like  themselves. 
She  feared  the  enthusiasm,  the  generous  courage,  the 
energy  of  her  sons,  and  she  knew  that,  if  a  revolution 
should  break  out  in  Italy,  it  would  gladly  adorn  itself 
with  the  name  of  Napoleon. 

Hortense,  therefore,  conjured  her  sons  to  hold  them- 
selves aloof  from  all  dangerous  undertakings,  and  not  to 
follow  those  who  might  appeal  to  them  with  the  old 
word  of  magic  power,  "  liberty ; "  that,  in  spite  of  the 
tears  and  blood  it  has  already  caused  mankind,  can  never 
lose  its  wondrous  power. 

Her  two  sons  promised  compliance;  and,  much  re- 
lieved, Hortense  left  Florence,  and  went,  with  her  young- 
er son,  Louis  Napoleon,  to  Rome. 

But  Rome,  otherwise  so  aristocratic  and  solemn,  as- 
sumed an  unusual,  an  entirely  new,  physiognomy  thi& 
winter.  In  society  the  topics  of  conversation  were  no 
longer  art  and  poetry,  the  Pantheon  and  St.  Peter,  or 
what  the  newest  amusement  should  be  ;  but  politics  and 
the  French  Revolution  were  the  all-engrossing  topics, 
and  the  populace  listened  anxiously  for  the  signal  that 
should  announce  that  the  revolution  in  Italy  had  at  last 
begun. 

Even  the  populace  of  Rome,  usually  addicted  to  lying 
so  harmlessly  in  the  sunshine,  now  assembled  in  dense 
groups  on  the  streets,  and  strange  words  were  heard 


THE  REVOLUTION  IN  ROME.  315 

"when  the  police  cautiously  approached  these  groups  for 
the  purpose  of  listening.  But  they  now  lacked  the  cour- 
age to  arrest  those  who  uttered  those  words ;  they  felt 
that  such  a  provocation  might  suffice  to  tear  away  the 
veil  behind  which  the  revolution  still  concealed  itself. 

The  whole  energy  and  watchfulness  of  the  Koman 
government  was  therefore  employed  in  endeavoring  to 
avert  the  revolution,  if  possible ;  not,  however,  by  remov- 
ing the  cause  and  occasion,  but  by  depriving  the  people 
of  the  means.  The  son  of  Hortense,  Louis  Napoleon, 
seemed  to  the  government  a  means  which  the  revolution 
might  use  for  its  purposes,  and  it  was  therefore  deter- 
mined that  he  should  be  removed. 

His  name,  and  even  the  three-colored  saddle-blanket 
of  his  horse,  with  which  he  rode  through  the  streets  of 
Rome,  were  exciting  to  the  populace,  in  whose  veins  the 
fever  of  revolution  was  already  throbbing.  Louis  Na- 
poleon must  therefore  be  removed. 

The  Governor  of  Rome  first  addressed  the  prince's 
great-uncle.  Cardinal  Fesch,  requesting  him  to  advise  the 
Duchess  of  St.  Leu  to  remove  the  young  prince  from 
Rome  for  a  few  weeks. 

But  the  cardinal  indignantly  declared  that  his  nephew, 
who  had  done  nothing,  should  not  be  compelled  to  leave 
Rome  merely  on  account  of  his  name  and  his  saddle- 
blanket,  and  that  he  would  never  advise  the  Duchess  of 
St.  Leu  to  do  anything  of  the  kind. 

The  Roman  government  therefore  determined  to 
adopt  energetic  means.    It  caused  the  dwelling  of  the 


316  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

duchess  to  be  surrounded  by  soldiers,  while  a  papal  officer 
presented  himself  before  Hortense,  and  announced  that 
he  had  received  orders  to  remove  Prince  Louis  from  the 
city  at  once,  and  to  conduct  him  without  the  papal  terri- 
tory. 

The  fear  of  approaching  evil  caused  the  government 
to  forget  the  respect  due  to  nobility  in  misfortune,  and 
the  emperor's  nephew  was  turned  out  of  the  city  like  a 
criminal ! 

Hortense  received  this  intelligence  almost  with  joy. 
Far  from  Rome,  it  seemed  to  her  that  he  would  be  safer 
from  the  revolution,  whose  approach  she  so  much  dread- 
ed ;  and  it  therefore  afforded  her  great  satisfaction  to  send 
the  prince  to  Florence,  to  his  father,  believing  that  he 
would  there  be  shielded  from  the  dangerous  political 
calumnies  that  threatened  him  in  Rome.  She  therefore 
permitted  him  to  depart ;  and  how  could  she  have  pre- 
vented his  departure — she,  the  lone,  powerless  woman,  to 
whom  not  even  the  French  ambassador  would  have  ac- 
corded protection  !  No  one  interceded  for  her — no  one 
protested  against  the  violent  and  brutal  course  pursued 
toward  Louis  Napoleon — no  one,  except  the  Russian  am- 
bassador. 

The  Emperor  of  Russia  was  the  only  one  of  all  the 
sovereigns  of  Europe  who  felt  himself  strong  enough  not 
to  ignore  the  name  of  Napoleon,  and  the  consideration 
due  to  the  family  of  a  hero  and  of  an  emperor. 

The  Emperor  of  Russia  had,  therefore,  never  refused 
his  protection  and  assistance  to  the  Bonapartes,  and  his 


THE  REVOLUTION  IN  ROME.  817 

ambassador  was  now  the  only  one  who  protested  against 
the  violent  course  taken  by  the  Roman  government. 

The  revolution  at  last  broke  forth.  Italy  arose  as 
France  had  done,  resolved  to  throw  off  the  yoke  of  tyr- 
anny and  oppression,  and  be  free !  The  storm  first  broke 
out  in  Modena.  The  duke  saw  himself  compelled  to  fly, 
and  a  provisional  government  under  General  Menotti 
placed  itself  in  his  stead.  But,  while  this  was  taking 
place  in  Modena,  the  populace  of  Rome  was  holding  high 
festival  in  honor  of  the  newly-chosen  Pope  Gregory 
XVI.,  who  had  just  taken  his  seat  in  the  chair  of  the 
deceased  Pope  Pius  YIII.,  and  these  festivities,  and  the 
Carnival,  seemed  to  occupy  the  undivided  attention  of  the 
Romans  ;  under  the  laughing  mask  of  these  rejoicings  the 
revolution  hid  its  grave  and  threatening  visage,  and  it  was 
not  until  ma/rdi-gras  that  it  laid  this  mask  aside  and 
showed  its  true  countenance. 

The  people  had  been  accustomed  to  throw  confection- 
ery and  flowers  on  this  day,  but  this  time  the  day  was  to 
be  made  memorable  by  a  shower  of  stones  and  bullets ; 
this  time  they  were  not  to  appear  in  the  harlequin  jacket, 
but  in  their  true  form,  earaest,  grand,  commanding,  self- 
conscious,  and  self-asserting. 

But  the  government  had  been  informed  of  the  inten- 
tion of  the  conspirators  to  avail  themselves  of  the  drive 
to  the  Corso,  to  begin  the  revolution,  and  this  procession 
was  prohibited  an  hour  before  the  time  appointed  for  its 
commencement. 

The  people  arose  against  this  prohibition,  and  the  revo- 


318  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

lution  they  liad  endeavored  to  repress  by  this  means  now 
broke  out. 

The  thunder  of  cannon  and  the  rattling  of  musketry 
now  resounded  through  the  streets  of  Rome,  and  the  peo- 
ple everywhere  resisted  the  papal  soldiery  with  energy 
and  determination. 

The  new  pope  trembled  in  the  Quirinal,  the  old  car- 
dinals lost  courage,  and  in  dismay  recoiled  a  step  at  every 
advancing  stride  of  the  insurgents.  Gregory  felt  that  the 
papal  crown  he  had  just  achieved  was  already  on  the 
point  of  falling  from  his  head,  to  be  trodden  in  the  dust 
by  the  victorious  populace ;  he  turned  to  Austria,  and  so- 
licited help  and  assistance. 

But  young  Italy,  the  Italy  of  enthusiasm,  of  liberty, 
and  of  hope,  looked  to  France  for  support.  Old  Italy 
had  turned  to  Austria  for  help ;  young  Italy  looked  for 
assistance  to  the  free,  newly-arisen  France,  in  which  the 
revolution  had  just  celebrated  a  glorious  victory.  But 
France  denied  its  Italian  brother,  and  denied  its  own 
origin ;  scarcely  had  the  revolution  seated  itself  on  the 
newly-erected  kingly  throne  and  invested  itself  with  the 
crown  and  purple  robe,  when,  for  its  own  safety,  it  be- 
came reactionary,  and  denied  itself. 

"With  all  Italy,  Rome  was  resolved  to  shake  off  the 
yoke  of  oppression  ;  the  whole  people  espoused  this  cause 
with  enthusiasm  ;  and  in  the  streets  of  Rome — at  other 
times  filled  with  priests  and  monks  and  holy  processions 
—in  these  streets,  now  alive  with  the  triumphant  youth  of 
Rome,  resounded  exultant  songs  of  freedom. 


THE  REVOLUTION   IN  ROME.  319 

The  strangers,  terrified  by  this  change,  now  quitted 
the  holy  city  in  crowds,  and  hastened  to  their  homes. 
Hortense  desired  to  remain ;  she  knew  that  she  had  noth- 
ing to  fear  from  the  people,  for  all  the  evil  that  had  hith- 
erto overtaken  her,  had  come,  not  from  the  people,  but 
always  from  the  princes  only.*  However,  letters  sud- 
denly arrived  from  her  sons,  conjuring  her  to  leave  Kome 
and  announcing  that  they  would  leave  Florence  within 
the  hour,  in  order  to  hasten  forward  to  meet  their 
mother. 

Upon  reading  this,  Hortense  cried  aloud  with  terror 
— she,  who  knew  and  desired  no  other  happiness  on  earth 
than  the  happiness  of  her  children,  she  whose  only  prayer 
to  God  had  ever  been,  that  her  children  might  prosper 
and  that  she  might  die  before  them,  now  felt  that  a  fear- 
ful danger  threatened  her  sons,  and  that  they  were  now 
about  to  be  swept  into  the  vortex  of  the  revolution. 

They  had  left  Florence,  and  their  father,  and  were 
now  on  the  way  to  Rome,  that  is,  on  the  way  to  the  revo- 
lution that  would  welcome  them  with  joy,  and  inscribe 
the  name  Napoleon  on  its  standards ! 

But  it  was  perhaps  still  time  to  save  them  ;  with  her 
prayers  and  entreaties  she  might  still  succeed  in  arresting 
them  on  the  verge  of  the  abyss  into  which  they  were 
hastening  in  the  intoxication  of  their  enthusiasm.  As 
this  thought  occurred  to  her,  Hortense  felt  herself  strong, 
determined,  and  courageous ;  and,  on  the  same  day  on 
which  she  had  received  the  letters,  she  left  Rome,  and 

*  La  Reine  Hortense,  p.  68. 


320  QUEEN   HOKTENSE. 

hurried  forward  to  meet  her  sons.  She  still  hoped  to  be 
in  time  to  save  them ;  she  fancied  she  saw  her  sons  in 
every  approaching  carriage — but  in  vain  ! 

They  had  written  that  they  would  meet  her  on  the 
road,  but  they  were  not  there  ! 

Perhaps  they  had  listened  to  the  representations  of 
their  father;  perhaps  they  had  remained  in  Florence, 
and  were  awaiting  their  mother's  arrival  there. 

Tormented  by  fear  and  hope,  Hortense  arrived  in 
Florence  and  drove  to  the  dwelling  in  which  her  son 
Louis  Kapoleon  had  resided.  Her  feet  could  scarcely 
bear  her  up  ;  she  hardly  found  strength  to  inquire  after 
her  son — he  was  not  there  ! 

But  he  might  be  with  his  father,  and  Hortense  now 
sent  there  for  intelKgence  of  her  sons.  The  messenger 
returned,  alone  and  dejected :  her  sons  had  left  the  city  ! 

The  exultant  hymn  of  liberty  had  struck  on  their  de- 
lighted ear,  and  they  had  responded  to  the  call  of  the 
revolution. 

General  Menotti  had  appealed  to  them,  in  the  name 
of  Italy,  to  assist  the  cause  of  freedom  with  their  name 
and  with  their  swords,  and  they  had  neither  the  will  nor 
the  courage  to  disregard  this  appeal. 

A  servant,  left  behind  by  her  younger  son,  delivered 
to  the  duchess  a  letter  from  her  son  Louis  Napoleon,  a 
last  word  of  adieu  to  his  beloved  mother. 

"  Your  love  will  understand  us,"  wrote  Louis  Napo- 
leon. "  We  cannot  withdraw  ourselves  from  duties  that 
devolve  upon  us ;  the  name  we  bear  obliges  us  to  listen 


THE  DEATH  OP  PRINCE  NAPOLEON.  321 

to  the  appeal  of  unhappy  nations.  I  beg  you  to  represent 
Ills  matter  to  my  sister-in-law  as  though  I  had  persuaded 
my  brother  to  accompany  me ;  it  grieves  him  to  have 
concealed  from  her  one  action  of  his  life."  * 


CHAPTEK  Y. 

THE   DEATH    OF   PRINCE   NAPOLEON. 

That  which  Hortense  most  dreaded  had  taken  place : 
the  voice  of  enthusiasm  had  silenced  every  other  consider- 
ation ;  and  the  two  sons  of  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu,  the 
nephews  of  the  Emperor  Napoleon,  now  stood  at  the 
head  of  the  revolution.  From  Foligno  to  Civita  Castel- 
lano,  they  organized  the  defence,  and  from  the  cities  and 
Tillages  the  young  people  joyously  hurried  forth  to  enroll 
themselves  under  their  banners,  and  to  obey  the  Princes 
Napoleon  as  their  leaders  ;  the  crowds  which  the  young 
princes  now  led  were  scarcely  armed,  but  they  neverthe- 
]e88  advanced  courageously,  and  were  resolved  to  attempt 
the  capture  of  Civita  Castellano,  in  order  to  liberate  the 
state  prisoners  who  had  been  languishing  in  its  dungeons 
for  eight  years. 

This  was  the  intelligence  brought  back  by  the  couriers 
whom  Hortense  had  dispatched  to  her  sons  with  letters 
entreating  them  to  return. 

It  was  too  late — they  neither  would  nor  could  return. 

*  Ia  Beine  Hortense,  p.  78. 


322  QJEEN  HORTENSE. 

Their  father  wrung  his  hands  in  despair,  and  conjured 
his  wife,  he  being  confined  to  his  arm-chair  by  illness  and 
the  gout,  to  do  all  in  her  power  to  tear  their  sons  from 
the  fearful  danger  that  menaced  them.  For  the  revolu- 
tion was  lost ;  all  who  were  cool  and  collected  felt  and 
saw  this.  But  the  youth  refused  to  see  it ;  they  still 
continued  to  flock  to  the  revolutionary  banners ;  they 
still  sang  exultant  hymns  of  freedom,  and,  when  their 
parents  endeavored  to  hold  them  back,  they  fled  from 
the  parental  house  secretly,  in  order  to  answer  the  call 
that  resounded  on  their  ear  in  such  divine  notes. 

One  of  the  sons  of  the  Princess  of  Canino,  the  wife  of 
Lucien  Bonaparte,  had  fled  from  his  father's  castle  in 
order  to  join  the  insurgents.  They  succeeded  in  finding, 
and  forcing  him  to  return,  and  as  the  family  were  under 
obligations  to  the  pope  for  having  created  the  principali- 
ties of  Canino  and  Musignano,  for  Lucien  Bonaparte  and 
his  eldest  son,  the  most  extreme  measures  were  adopted 
to  prevent  the  young  prince  from  fighting  against  the 
troops  of  the  pope. 

The  Princess  of  Canino,  as  a  favor,  requested  the 
Grand-duke  of  Tuscany  to  confine  her  son  in  one  of  the 
state  prisons  of  Tuscany ;  her  request  was  granted,  and 
her  son  taken  to  a  prison,  where  he  was  kept  during  the 
entire  revolution.  It  was  proposed  to  the  Duchess  of  St. 
Leu  to  adopt  this  same  means  of  prevention,  but,  in  spite 
of  her  anxiety  and  care,  and  although,  in  her  restlessness 
and  feverish  disquiet,  she  wandered  through  her  rooms 
day  and  night,  she  declined  to  take  such  a  course.     She 


THE  DEATH  OF  PRINCE  NAPOLEON.  323 

was  not  willing  to  subject  her  sons  to  the  humiliation  of 
such  compulsion  ;  if  their  own  reason,  if  the  prayers  and 
entreaties  of  their  mother,  did  not  suffice,  force  should 
not  be  resorted  to,  to  bring  them  back.  The  whole  family 
was,  however,  still  employing  every  means  to  induce  the 
two  Princes  Napoleon  to  withdraw  from  the  revolution, 
which  must  inevitably  again  draw  down  upon  the  name 
Napoleon  the  suspicion  of  the  angry  and  distrustful 
princes  of  Europe. 

Cardinal  Fesch  and  King  Jerome  conjured  their 
nephews,  first  in  entreating,  and  then  in  commanding 
letters,  to  leave  the  insurgent  army. 

With  the  consent  of  their  father,  Louis  Bonaparte, 
they  wrote  to  the  provisional  government  at  Bologna 
that  the  name  of  the  two  princes  was  injuring  the  cause 
of  the  revolution,  and  to  General  Armandi,  the  minister 
of  war  of  the  insurgent  government,  entreating  him  to 
recall  the  princes  from  the  army.  Every  one,  friend  and 
foe,  combined  to  neutralize  the  zeal  and  efforts  of  the  two 
princes,  and  to  prove  to  them  that  they  could  only  injure 
the  cause  to  which  they  gave  their  names ;  that  foreign 
powers,  considering  the  revolution  a  matter  to  be  decided 
by  Italy  alone,  would  perhaps  refrain  from  intervening ; 
but  that  they  would  become  relentless  should  a  Bonaparte 
place  himself  at  the  head  of  the  revolution,  in  order  per- 
haps to  shake  the  thrones  of  Europe  anew. 

The  two  princes  at  last  yielded  to  these  entreaties  and 
representations;  they  gave  up  their  commands,  and  re- 
signed the  rank  that  had  been  accorded  them  in  the  insur- 


324  QUEEN  HORTENSB. 

gent  army ;  but,  as  it  was  no  longer  in  their  power  to 
serve  the  revolution  with  their  name  and  with  their 
brains,  they  were  at  least  desirous  of  serving  it  with  their 
arms :  they  resigned  their  commands,  but  with  the  inten- 
tion of  remaining  in  the  army  as  simple  soldiers  and  vol- 
unteers without  any  rank. 

And  when  their  father  and  their  uncles,  not  yet  satis- 
fied with  what  they  had  done,  urged  them  still  further, 
the  two  princes  declared  that,  if  these  cruel  annoyances 
were  continued,  they  would  go  to  Poland,  and  serve  the 
revolution  there.* 

Hortense  had  taken  no  part  in  these  attempts  and  ef- 
forts of  her  family ;  she  knew  that  it  was  all  in  vain ;  she 
itnderstood  her  sons  better  than  they,  and  she  knew  that 
nothing  in  the  world  could  alter  a  resolution  they  had 
once  formed.  But  she  also  knew  that  they  were  lost,  that 
the  revolution  must  be  suppressed,  that  they  would  soon 
be  proscribed  fugitives,  and  she  quietly  prepared  to  assist 
them  when  the  evil  days  should  come.  She  armed  her- 
self with  courage  and  determination,  and  made  her  soul 
strong,  in  order  that  she  might  not  be  overwhelmed  by 
the  misfortune  that  was  so  near  at  hand. 

While  all  about  her  were  weeping  and  lamenting, 
while  her  husband  was  wringing  his  hands  in  despair, 
and  complaining  of  the  present,  Hortense  quietly  and 
resolutely  confronted  the  future,  and  prepared  to  defy  it. 

That  which  she  dreaded  soon  took  place.  An  Aus- 
trian fleet  sailed  into  the  Adriatic ;  an  Austrian  army  was 

*  La  Reine  Hortense,  p.  93. 


THE  DEATH  OF  PRINCE  NAPOLEON.  325 

marching  on  the  insurrectionary  Italian  provinces.  Mo- 
dena  had  already  been  reconquered ;  the  insurgents  were 
already  flying  in  crowds  before  the  Austrian  cannon, 
whose  thundering  salvos  were  destined  to  destroy  once 
more  the  hopes  of  the  youth  of  Italy. 

Like  an  enraged  lioness  glowing  with  enthusiasm  and 
courage,  Hortense  now  sprang  up.  The  danger  was  there, 
and  she  must  save  her  sons !  She  had  long  considered 
how  it  was  to  be  done,  and  whither  she  was  to  go  with 
them.  She  had  first  resolved  to  go  with  them  to  Turkey, 
and  to  take  up  her  residence  in  Smyrna,  but  the  presence 
of  the  Austrian  fleet  which  ruled  the  Adriatic  made  this 
plan  impracticable.  At  this  moment  of  extreme  danger, 
a  volume  of  light  suddenly  beamed  in  upon  her  soul,  and 
pointed  out  the  way  to  safety.  "  I  will  take  them  by  a 
road,"  said  she  to  herself,  "  on  which  they  will  be  least 
expected.  I  will  conduct  them  through  France,  through 
Paris.  The  death-penalty  will  there  hang  suspended  over 
them,  but  what  care  I  for  that  ?  Liberty,  justice,  and  hu- 
manity, still  exercise  too  much  control  over  France  to 
make  me  apprehend  such  severe  measures.  I  must  save 
my  sons ;  the  way  through  France  is  the  way  of  safety, 
and  I  shall  therefore  follow  it ! " 

And  Hortense  immediately  began  to  carry  her  plan 
into  execution.  She  requested  an  Englishman  residing 
in  Florence,  to  whose  family  she  had  once  rendered  im- 
portant services  in  France,  to  call  on  her,  and  begged 
him  to  procure  her  a  passport  for  an  English  lady  and  hei 
two  sons  through  France  to  England. 


326  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

The  lord  understood  her,  and  gladly  consented  to  as- 
sist her  and  her  two  sons. 

On  the  following  day  he  brought  her  the  required 
passport,  and  Hortense,  who  well  knew  that  the  best  way 
to  keep  a  secret  was  to  have  no  confidants,  now  declared 
to  her  husband,  as  well  as  to  her  family  and  her  friends, 
that  she  was  resolved  to  find  her  sons,  and  to  embark 
with  them  from  Ancona  for  Corfu  ! 

For  this  purpose  she  demanded  a  passport  of  the  gov- 
ernment of  Tuscany,  and  it  was  accorded  her. 

Her  sons  were  still  in  Bologna,  but  it  was  known  that 
this  city  must  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Austrians  in  a 
few  days,  and  all  was  lost  unless  Hortense  arrived  there 
before  them.  She  sent  a  trusty  servant  to  her  sons  to 
announce  her  coming.  Then,  at  nightfall,  she  herseK 
departed,  accompanied  by  one  of  her  ladies  only.  She 
was  courageous  and  resolute,  for  she  knew  that  the  safety 
of  her  sons,  her  only  happiness,  was  at  stake. 

Her  rapidly-driven  carriage  had  soon  passed  without 
the  city,  and  she  now  found  herself  in  a  part  of  the 
country  still  occupied  by  the  insurgents.  Here  all  still 
breathed  courage,  joyousness,  and  confidence.  The  en- 
tire population,  adorned  with  cockades  and  three-colored 
ribbons,  seemed  happy  and  contented,  and  refused  to  be- 
lieve in  tiie  danger  that  threatened. 

Festivals  were  everywhere  being  held  in  honor  of  the 
revolution  and  of  liberty,  and  those  who  spoke  of  the  ad* 
vancing  Austrians  and  of  dangers  were  ridiculed.  In- 
stead of  making  preparations  for  their  defence,  the  insur- 


THE  DEATH  OF  PRINCE  NAPOLEON.  327 

gents  folded  their  hands  in  contentment,  rejoicing  over 
that  which  they  had  already  attained,  and  blind  to  the  tide 
that  was  rolling  down  upon  them. 

In  the  mean  while,  the  insurgent  army  was  in  position 
near  Bologna,  and  also  still  occupied  the  two  cities  of 
Terni  and  Soleta,  which  they  had  courageously  defended 
against  the  papal  troops.  Every  one  expected  that  a  de- 
cisive battle  would  soon  take  place,  and  every  one  looked 
forward  to  it  with  a  joyous  assurance  of  victory. 

Hortense  was  far  from  participating  in  this  general 
confidence.  In  Foligno,  where  she  had  remained  to  await 
her  sons,  she  passed  several  sorrowful  days  of  expectancy 
and  suspense,  alarmed  by  every  noise,  and  ever  looking 
forward  with  an  anxiously- throbbing  heart  to  the  moment 
when  her  sons  should  come  to  her  as  fugitives,  perhaps 
covered  with  wounds,  perhaps  dying,  to  tell  her  that  all 
was  lost !  Her  anxiety  at  last  became  so  great,  that  she 
could  no  longer  remain  in  Foligno ;  she  must  be  nearer 
her  sons,  she  must  view  the  dangers  that  encompassed 
them,  and,  if  need  be,  share  them.  Hortense,  therefore, 
left  Foligno,  and  started  for  Ancona. 

On  her  arrival  at  the  first  station,  she  saw  a  man  de- 
scend from  a  carriage  and  approach  her.  He  was  un- 
known to  her,  and  yet  she  felt  a  dark  foreboding  at  his 
approach.  The  mother's  heart  already  felt  the  blow  that 
awaited  her. 

This  man  was  a  messenger  from  her  sons.  "  Prince 
Napoleon  is  ill,"  said  he. 

Hortense  remembered  that  she  had  heard  that  a  con- 


328  QUEEN  HORTENSB. 

tagious  disease  was  ravaging  the  vicinity.  "  Is  he  indeed 
ill  ? "  cried  she,  in  dismay. 

"  Yes ;  and  he  earnestly  desires  to  see  you,  madame ! " 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  Hortense,  in  terror,  "  if  he  calls  for 
me,  he  must  be  very  ill  indeed  ! — Forward,  forward,  with 
all  possible  speed ;  I  must  see  my  son ! " 

And  onward  they  went  with  the  speed  of  the  wind 
from  station  to  station,  approaching  nearer  and  nearer  to 
their  destination ;  but  as  they  neared  their  destination, 
the  faces  they  met  grew  sadder  and  sadder.  At  every 
station  groups  of  people  assembled  about  her  carriage 
and  gazed  at  her  sorrowfully;  everywhere  she  heard 
them  murmur:  "Napoleon  is  dead!  Poor  mother! 
Napoleon  is  dead!"  Hortense  heard,  but  did  not  be- 
lieve it !  These  words  had  not  been  spoken  by  men,  but 
were  the  utterances  of  her  anxious  heart !  Her  son  was 
not  dead,  he  could  not  be  dead.  Napoleon  lived,  yes,  he 
still  lived !  And  again  the  people  around  her  carriage 
murmured,  "  Napoleon  is  dead !  " 

Hortense  reclined  in  her  carriage,  pale  and  motion- 
less. Her  thoughts  were  confused,  her  heart  scarcely 
beat. 

At  last  she  reached  her  destination ;  her  carriage 
drove  up  to  the  house  in  Pesaro,  where  her  sons  were 
awaiting  her. 

At  this  moment  a  young  man,  his  countenance  of  a 
deathly  pallor,  and  flooded  with  tears,  rushed  out  of  the 
door  and  to  her  carriage.  Hortense  recognized  him,  and 
stretched  out  her  arms  to  him.     It  was  her  son  Louis 


THE  FLIGHT  FROM  ITALY.  329 

Napoleon,  and  on  beholding  his  pale,  sorrowful  counte- 
nance, and  his  tear-stained  eyes,  the  unhappy  mother 
learned  the  truth.  Yes,  it  was  not  her  heart,  it  was  the 
people  who  had  uttered  the  fearful  words :  "  Napoleon 
is  dead !     Poor  mother !     Napoleon  is  dead ! " 

With  a  heart-rending    cry,   Hortense    sank    to  the 
ground  in  a  swoon. 


CHAPTER  YI. 

THE   FLIGHT   FROM   ITALY. 

But  Hortense  now  had  no  leisure  to  weep  over  the 
eon  she  had  so  dearly  loved ;  the  safety  of  the  son  who 
remained  to  her,  whom  she  loved  no  less,  and  on  whom 
her  whole  love  must  now  be  concentrated,  was  at  stake. 

She  still  had  a  son  to  save,  and  she  must  now  think 
of  him — of  Louis  Napoleon,  who  stood  in  sorrow  at  her 
side,  lamenting  that  Fate  had  not  allowed  him  to  die 
with  his  brother. 

Her  son  must  be  saved.  This  thought  restored  Hor- 
tense to  health  and  strength.  She  is  informed  that  the 
authorities  of  Bologna  have  already  tendered  submission 
to  the  Austrians ;  that  the  insurgent  army  is  already  scat- 
tering in  every  direction ;  that  the  Austrian  fleet  is  al- 
ready to  be  seen  in  the  distance,  approaching,  perhaps 
with  the  intention  of  landing  at  Sinigaglia,  in  order  to 
surround  the  insurgen„  «.ad  render  flight  impossible. 

This  intelligence  aroused   Hortense  from  her  grief 
22 


330  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

and  restored  her  energy.  She  ordered  her  carriage  and 
drove  with  her  son  to  Ancona,  in  full  view  of  the  peo- 
ple, in  order  that  every  one  should  know  that  it  was  her 
purpose  to  embark  with  her  son  for  Corfu  at  that  sea- 
port. At  Ancona,  immediately  fronting  the  sea,  stood 
her  nephew's  palace,  and  there  Hortense  descended  from 
her  carriage. 

The  waves  of  the  storm-tossed  sea  sometimes  rushed 
up  to  the  windows  of  the  room  occupied  by  the  duchess ; 
from  there  she  could  see  the  port,  and  the  crowds  of 
fugitives  who  were  pressing  forward  to  save  themselves 
on  the  miserable  little  vessels  that  there  lay  at  anchor. 

And  these  poor  people  had  but  little  time  left  them 
in  which  to  seek  safety.  The  Austrians  were  rapidly 
advancing ;  on  entering  the  papal  territory,  they  had 
proclaimed  an  amnesty,  from  the  benefits  of  which 
Prince  Louis  Napoleon,  General  Zucchi,  and  the  inhab- 
itants of  Modena,  were,  however,  excepted.  The  stran- 
gers who  had  taken  part  in  the  insurrection  were  to  be 
arrested  and  treated  with  all  the  severity  of  the  law. 

The  young  people  who  had  flocked  from  Modena, 
Milan,  and  from  all  Italy,  to  enroll  themselves  under  the 
banner  of  the  Roman  revolution,  now  found  it  necessary 
to  seek  safety  from  the  pursuing  Austrians  in  flight. 

Louis  Napoleon  also  had  no  time  to  lose ;  each  mo- 
ment lost  might  render  flight  impossible !  Hortense  was 
weary  and  ill,  but  she  now  had  no  time  to  think  of  her- 
self ;  she  must  first  save  her  son,  ^\en  she  could  die,  but 
not  sooner. 


THE  FLIGHT  FROM  ITALY.  331 

With  perfect  composure  she  prepared  for  her  double 
(her  feigned  and  her  real)  departure. 

Outwardly,  she  purposed  embarking  with  her  son  at 
Corfu ;  secretly,  it  was  her  intention  to  fly  to  England 
through  France !  But  the  English  passport  that  she  had 
received  for  this  purpose  mentioned  two  sons,  and  Hor- 
lense  now  possessed  but  one;  and  it  was  necessary  for 
her  to  provide  a  substitute  for  the  one  she  had  lost. 

She  found  one  in  the  person  of  the  young  Marquis 
Zappi,  who,  compromised  more  than  all  the  rest,  joyfully 
accepted  the  proposition  of  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu, 
promising  to  conform  himself  wholly  to  her  arrange- 
ments, without  knowing  her  plans  and  without  being  ini- 
tiated in  her  secrets. 

Hortense  then  procured  all  that  was  necessary  to  the 
disguise  of  the  young  men  as  liveried  servants,  and  or- 
dered her  carriage  to  be  held  in  readiness  for  her  de- 
parture. 

While  this  was  being  done  in  secret,  she  publicly 
caused  all  preparations  to  be  made  for  her  journey  to 
Corfu.  She  sent  her  passport  to  the  authorities  for  the 
purpose  of  obtaining  the  official  visa  for  herself  and 
sons,  and  had  her  trunks  packed.  Louis  Napoleon  had 
looked  on,  with  cold  and  mute  indifference,  while  these 
preparations  were  being  made.  He  stood  by,  pale  and 
dejected,  without  complaining  or  giving  utterance  to  hie 
grief. 

Becoming  at  last  convinced  that  he  was  ill,  Hortenae 
sent  for  a  physician. 


332  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

The  latter  declared  that  the  prince  was  suffering  from 
a  severe  attack  of  fever,  which  might  become  dangerous 
unless  he  sought  repose  at  once.  It  was  therefore  neces- 
sary to  postpone  their  departure  for  a  day,  and  Hortense 
passed  an  anxious  night  at  the  bedside  of  her  fever- 
shaken,  delirious  son. 

The  morning  at  last  dawned,  the  morning  of  the  day 
on  which  they  hoped  to  fly ;  but  when  the  rising  sun  shed 
its  light  into  the  chamber  in  which  Hortense  stood  at  her 
son's  bedside,  who  can  describe  the  unhappy  mother's 
horror  when  she  saw  her  son's  face  swollen,  disfigured, 
and  covered  with  red  spots ! 

Like  his  brother,  Louis  IN'apoleon  had  also  taken  the 
same  disease. 

For  a  moment  Hortense  was  completely  overwhelmed, 
and  then,  by  the  greatest  effort  of  her  life,  she  summoned 
her  fortitude  to  her  aid.  She  immediately  sent  for  the 
physician  again,  and,  trusting  to  a  sympathetic  human 
heart,  she  confided  all  to  him,  and  he  did  not  disappoint 
her.  What  is  to  be  done  must  be  done  quickly,  immedi- 
ately, or  it  will  be  in  vain  ! 

Hortense  thinks  of  all,  and  provides  for  all.  Espe- 
cially, she  causes  her  son's  passport  to  Corfu  to  be  signed 
by  the  authorities,  and  a  passage  to  be  taken  for  him  on 
the  only  ship  destined  for  Corfu  now  lying  in  the  harbor. 
She  instructs  the  servants,  who  are  conveying  trunks  and 
packages  to  the  vessel,  to  inform  the  curious  spectators  of 
her  son's  intended  departure  on  this  vessel.  She  at  the 
same  time  causes  the  report  to  be  circulated  that  she  has 


THE  FLIGHT  FROM  ITALY.  333 

enddenly  been  taken  ill,  and  can  therefore  not  accompany 
her  son. 

The  physician  confirms  this  statement,  and  informs  all 
Ancona  of  the  dangerous  illness  of  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu. 

And  after  all  this  had  been  done,  Hortense  causes  her 
son's  bed  to  be  carried  into  the  little  cabinet  adjoining 
her  room,  and  falling  on  her  knees  at  his  bedside,  and 
covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  she  prays  to  God  to 
preserve  the  life  of  her  child ! 

On  the  evening  of  this  day  the  vessel  destined  for 
Corfu  hoisted  its  anchor.  No  one  doubted  that  Louis 
Napoleon  had  embarked  on  it,  and  every  one  pitied  the 
poor  duchess,  who,  made  ill  by  grief  and  anxiety,  had  not 
been  able  to  accompany  her  son. 

In  the  mean  while  Hortense  was  sitting  at  the  bedside 
of  her  delirious  son.  But  she  no  longer  felt  weak  or  dis- 
quieted ;  nervous  excitement  sustained  her,  and  gave  her 
strength  and  presence  of  mind.  Her  son  was  at  the  same 
time  threatened  by  two  dangers — by  the  disease,  which 
the  sh'ghtest  mistake  might  render  mortal ;  and  by  the 
arrival  of  the  Austrians,  who  had  expressly  excepted  her 
son  Louis  Napoleon  from  the  benefits  of  the  amnesty. 
She  must  save  her  son  from  both  these  dangers — this 
thought  gave  her  strength. 

Two  days  had  now  passed ;  the  last  two  vessels  had 
left  the  harbor,  crowded  with  fugitives ;  and  now  the 
advance-guard  of  the  Austrians  was  marching  into  An- 
cona. 

The  commandant  of  the  advance-guard,  upon  whom 


334  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

the  duty  of  designating  quarters  for  the  following  army 
devolved,  selected  the  palace  of  Princess  Canino,  where 
the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu  resided,  as  headquarters  for  the 
commanding  general  and  his  staff.  Hortense  had  ex- 
pected this,  and  had  withdrawn  to  a  few  small  rooms  in 
advance,  holding  all  the  parlors  and  large  rooms  in  readi- 
ness for  the  general.  When  they,  however,  demanded 
that  the  entire  palace  should  be  vacated,  the  wife  of  the 
janitor,  the  only  person  whom  Hortense  had  taken  into 
her  confidence,  informed  them  that  Queen  Hortense,  who 
was  ill  and  unhappy,  was  the  sole  occupant  of  these  re~ 
served  rooms. 

Strange  to  relate,  the  Austrian  captain  who  came  to 
the  palace  to  make  the  necessary  preparations  for  his  gen- 
eral's reception  was  one  of  those  who,  in  the  year  1815, 
had  protected  the  queen  and  her  children  from  the  fury 
of  the  royalists.  For  the  second  time  he  now  interested 
himself  zealously  in  behalf  of  the  duchess,  and  hastened 
forward  to  meet  the  general-in-chief ,  Baron  Geppert,  who 
was  just  entering  the  city,  in  order  to  acquaint  him  with 
the  state  of  affairs.  He,  in  common  with  all  the  world, 
convinced  that  her  son,  Louis  I^apoleon,  had  fled  to 
Corfu,  declared  his  readiness  to  permit  the  duchess  to 
retain  the  rooms  she  was  occupying,  and  begged  permis- 
sion to  call  on  her.  But  the  duchess  was  still  ill,  and 
confined  to  her  bed,  and  could  receive  no  one. 

The  Austrians  took  up  their  quarters  in  the  palace ; 
and  in  the  midst  of  them,  separated  from  the  general's 
room  by  a  locked  door  only,  were  Hortense  and  her  sick 


THE  FLIGHT  FROM  ITALY.  335 

son.  The  least  noise  miglit  betray  him.  When  he 
coughed  it  was  necessary  to  cover  his  head  with  the  bed- 
clothes, in  order  to  deaden  the  sound  ;  when  he  desired  to 
speak  he  could  only  do  so  in  a  whisper,  for  his  Austrian 
neighbors  would  have  been  astonished  to  hear  a  male 
voice  in  the  room  of  the  sick  duchess,  and  their  suspi- 
cions might  have  been  thereby  aroused. 

At  last,  after  eight  days  of  torment  and  anxiety,  the 
physician  declared  that  Louis  Napoleon  could  now  under- 
take the  journey  without  danger,  and  consequently  the 
duchess  suddenly  recovered !  She  requested  the  Austrian 
general,  Baron  Geppert,  to  honor  her  with  a  call,  in  order 
that  she  might  thank  him  for  his  protection  and  sympa- 
thy ;  she  told  him  that  she  was  now  ready  to  depart,  and 
proposed  embarking  at  Livorno,  in  order  to  join  her  son 
at  Malta,  and  go  with  him  to  England.  As  she  would  be 
compelled  to  pass  through  the  whole  Austrian  army-corps 
on  her  way,  she  begged  the  general  to  furnish  her  with  a 
passport  through  his  lines  over  his  own  signature;  re- 
questing in  addition  that,  in  order  to  avoid  all  sensation, 
the  instrument  should  not  contain  her  name. 

The  general,  deeply  sympathizing  with  the  unhappy 
woman  who  was  about  to  follow  her  proscribed  son,  read- 
ily accorded  her  request. 

Hortense  purposed  beginning  her  journey  on  the  fol- 
lowing day,  the  first  day  of  the  Easter  festival ;  and,  on 
sending  her  farewell  greeting  to  the  Austrian  general,  she 
informed  him  that  she  would  start  at  a  very  early  hour,  in 
order  to  hear  mass  at  Loretto. 


336  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

During  the  night  all  necessary  preparations  for  the 
journey  were  made,  and  Louis  ISTapoleon  was  compelled 
to  disguise  himself  in  the  dress  of  a  liveried  servant ;  a 
similar  attire  was  also  sent  to  Marquis  Zappi,  who  had  hith- 
erto been  concealed  in  the  house  of  a  friend,  and  in  this 
attire  he  was  to  await  the  duchess  below  at  the  carriage. 

At  last,  day  broke  and  the  hour  of  departure  came. 
The  horn  of  the  postilion  resounded  through  the  street. 
Through  the  midst  of  the  sleeping  Austrian  soldiers  who 
occupied  the  antechamber  through  which  they  were  com- 
pelled to  pass,  Hortense  walked,  followed  by  her  son, 
loaded  with  packages,  in  his  livery.  Their  departure  was 
witnessed  by  no  one  except  the  sentinel  on  duty. 

Day  had  hardly  dawned.  In  the  first  carriage  sat  the 
duchess,  with  a  lady  companion,  and  in  front,  on  the  box, 
her  son,  as  a  servant,  at  the  side  of  the  postilion ;  in  the 
second  carriage  her  maid,  behind  her  the  young  Marquis 
Zappi. 

As  the  sun  arose  and  shone  down  upon  the  beautiful 
Easter  day,  Ancona  was  already  far  behind,  and  Hortense 
knelt  down  at  the  side  of  Louis  Napoleon  to  thank  God 
tearfully  for  having  permitted  her  to  succeed  so  far  in 
rescuing  her  son,  and  to  entreat  Him  to  be  merciful 
in  the  future.  But  there  were  still  many  dangers  to  be 
overcome ;  the  slightest  accident  might  still  betray  them. 
The  danger  consisted  not  only  in  having  to  pass  through 
all  the  places  where  the  Austrian  troops  were  stationed  ; 
General  Geppert's  pass  was  a  sufficient  protection  against 
any  thing  that  might  threaten  them  from  this  quarter. 


THE  FLIGHT  FROM  ITALY.  337 

The  greatest  danger  was  to  be  apprehended  from  their 
friends — from  some  one  who  might  accidentally  recog- 
nize her  son,  and  unintentionally  betray  them. 

They  must  pass  through  the  grand-duchy  of  Tuscany, 
and  there  the  greatest  danger  menaced,  for  there  her  son 
was  known  to  every  one,  and  every  one  might  betray 
them.  This  part  of  the  journey  must  therefore  be  made^ 
as  far  as  possible,  by  night.  The  courier  whom  they  had 
dispatched  in  advance  had  everywhere  ordered  the  neces- 
sary relays  of  horses ;  their  dismay  was,  therefore,  great 
when  they  found  no  horses  at  the  station  Camoscia, 
on  the  boundary  of  Tuscany,  and  were  informed  that 
several  hours  must  elapse  before  they  could  obtain  any ! 

These  hours  of  expectation  and  anxiety  were  fearfuL 
Hortense  passed  them  in  her  carriage,  breathlessly  listen- 
ing to  the  slightest  noise  that  broke  upon  the  air. 

Her  son  Louis  had  descended  from  the  carriage,  and 
seated  himself  on  a  stone  bench  that  stood  in  front  of 
the  miserable  little  station-house.  Worn  out  by  grief  and 
still  weak  from  disease,  indifferent  to  the  dangers  that 
menaced  from  all  sides,  heedless  of  the  night  wind  that 
swept,  with  its  icy  breath,  over  his  face,  the  prince  sank 
down  upon  this  stone  bench,  and  went  to  sleep. 

Thus  they  passed  the  night.  Hortense,  once  a  queen, 
in  a  half -open  carriage;  Louis  Napoleon,  the  present 
Emperor  of  France,  on  a  stone  bench,  that  served  him 
as  a  conch  I 


338  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

CHAPTEE  YIL 

THE   PILGRIMAGE. 

Heaven  took  pity  on  the  agony  of  the  unhappy 
Duchess  of  St.  Leu.  It  heard  the  prayer  of  her  anxious 
mother's  heart,  and  permitted  mother  and  son  to  escape 
the  dangers  that  menaced  them  at  every  step  in  Italy. 

At  Antibes  they  succeeded  in  crossing  the  French 
boundary  without  being  recognized.  They  were  now  in 
their  own  country — in  la  helle  France,  which  they  still 
loved  and  proudly  called  their  mother,  although  it  had 
forsaken  and  discarded  them.  The  death-penalty  threat- 
ened the  Bonapartes  who  should  dare  to  set  foot  on 
French  soil.  But  what  cared  they  for  that?  Neither 
Hortense  nor  her  son  thought  of  it.  They  only  knew 
that  they  were  in  their  own  country.  They  inhaled 
with  delight  the  air  that  seemed  to  them  better  and 
purer  than  any  other ;  with  hearts  throbbing  with  joy, 
they  listened  to  the  music  of  this  beautiful  language 
that  greeted  them  with  the  sweet  native  melodies. 

At  Cannes  they  passed  the  first  night.  What  recol- 
lections did  this  place  recall  to  Hortense !  Here  it  was 
that  ISTapoleon  had  landed  on  his  return  from  Elba  to 
France ;  from  Cannes  he  had  commenced  his  march  to 
Paris  with  a  handful  of  soldiers,  and  had  arrived  there 
with  an  army.  For  the  people  had  everywhere  received 
him  with  exultation ;  the  regiments  that  had  been  sent 
out  against  the  advancing  general  had  everywhere  joy- 


THE  PILGRIMAGE.  339 

ously  gone  over  to  his  standard.  Charles  de  Labedoyere, 
this  enthusiastic  adherent  of  the  emperor,  had  been  the 
first  to  do  this.  He  was  to  have  advanced  against  the 
emperor  from  Grenoble;  but,  with  the  exulting  cry, 
*'  Vive  Verrvpereur  !  "  the  entire  regiment  had  gone  over 
h)  its  adored  chieftain.  Labedoyere  had  paid  dearly  for 
i^he  enthusiasm  of  those  moments ;  for,  the  f or-the-second- 
t^me  restored  Bourbons  punished  his  fidelity  with  death. 
-Tike  Marshal  Ney,  Charles  de  Labedoyere  was  also  shot ; 
^ie  the  emperor  himself,  he  paid  for  the  triumph  of  the 
i:.undred  days  with  his  liberty  and  vdth  his  life  ! 

Of  all  these  names  and  events  of  the  past,  Hortense 
thought,  while  enjoying  the  first  hours  of  repose  in  their 
room  at  an  hotel  in  Cannes.  Leaning  back  in  her  chair, 
her  large  eyes  gazing  dreamily  at  the  ceiling  above  her,  she 
^)ld  the  attentive  prince  of  the  days  that  had  been,  and 
«poke  to  him  of  the  days  in  which  they  were  now  living 
-  -of  these  days  of  humiliation  and  obscurity — of  those 
-^ays  in  which  the  French  nation  had  risen,  and,  shaking 
its  lion's  mane,  hurled  the  Bourbons  from  their  ancestral 
throne,  and  out  of  the  land  they  had  hitherto  proudly  called 
their  own.  On  driving  out  the  Bourbons,  the  people  had 
freely  chosen  another  king — not  the  King  of  Rome,  who, 
in  Vienna,  as  Duke  of  Reichstadt,  had  been  made  to  for- 
get the  brilliant  days  of  his  childhood — not  the  son  of 
the  Emperor  Napoleon.  The  people  of  France  had 
<jho8en  the  Duke  of  Orleans  as  their  king,  and  Louis 
Philippe's  first  act  had  been  to  renew  the  decree  of 
banishment  which  the  Bourbons  had  fulminated  against 


340  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

the  Bonapartes,  and  wliicli  declared  it  to  be  a  capital 
crime  if  thej  should  ever  dare  to  set  foot  on  the  soil  of 
France. 

"  The  people  acted  freely  and  according  to  their  own 
will,"  said  Hor tense,  with  a  sad  smile,  as  she  saw  her  son 
turn  pale,  and  wrinkles  gather  on  his  brow.  "  Honor  the 
will  of  the  people,  my  son !  In  order  to  reward  the  em- 
peror for  his  great  services  to  the  country,  the  people  of 
France  had  unanimously  chosen  him  their  emperor.  The 
people  who  give  have  also  the  right  to  take  back  again* 
The  Bourbons,  who  consider  themselves  the  owners  of 
France,  may  reclaim  it  as  an  estate  of  which  they  have 
been  robbed  by  the  house  of  Orleans.  But  the  Bona- 
partes must  remember  that  they  derived  all  their  power 
from  the  will  of  the  people.  They  must  be  content  to 
await  the  future  expression  of  its  will,  and  then  submit, 
and  conform  themselves  to  it."  * 

Louis  Napoleon  bowed  his  head  and  sighed.  He  must 
conform  to  the  will  of  the  people  ;  cautiously,  under  a 
borrowed  name,  he  must  steal  into  the  land  of  his  longing 
and  of  his  dreams  ;  he  must  deny  his  nationality,  and  be 
indebted,  for  his  name  and  passport,  to  the  country  that 
had  bound  his  uncle,  like  a  second  Prometheus,  to  the  rock, 
and  left  him  there  to  die  !  But  he  did  it  with  a  sorrow- 
ful, with  a  bleeding  heart ;  he  wandered  with  his  mother, 
who  walked  heavily  veiled  at  his  side,  from  place  to  place, 
listening  to  her  reminiscences  of  the  great  past.     At  her 

*  The  duchess's  own  words.     See  La  Heine  Hortense  en  Italie, 
Suisse,  France,  etc.,  p.  79. 


THE  PILGRIMAGE.  341 

relation  of  these  reminiscences,  his  love  and  enthusiasm  for 
the  fatherland,  from  which  he  had  so  long  been  banished,, 
burned  brighter  and  brighter.  The  sight,  the  air  of  thia 
fatherland,  had  electrified  him  ;  he  entertained  but  one 
wish :  to  remain  in  France,  and  to  serve  France,  although 
in  the  humble  capacity  of  a  private  soldier. 

One  day  Louis  Napoleon  entered  his  mother's  room 
with  a  letter  in  his  hand,  and  begged  her  to  read  it.  It 
was  a  letter  addressed  to  Louis  Philippe,  in  which  Loui& 
Napoleon  begged  the  French  king  to  annul  his  exile,  and 
to  permit  him  to  enter  the  French  army  as  a  private 
soldier. 

Hortense  read  the  letter,  and  shook  her  head  sadly. 
It  wounded  her  just  pride  that  her  son,  the  nephew  of 
the  great  emperor,  should  ask  a  favor  of  him  who  had 
not  hesitated  to  make  the  most  of  the  revolution  for  him- 
self, but  had  nevertheless  lacked  the  courage  to  help  the 
banished  Bonapartes  to  recover  their  rights,  and  enable 
them  to  return  to  their  country.  In  his  ardent  desire  to 
serve  France,  Louis  Napoleon  had  forgotten  this  insult  of 
the  King  of  France. 

"  My  children,"  says  Hortense,  in  her  memoirs,  "  my 
children,  who  had  been  cruelly  persecuted  by  all  the 
courts,  even  by  those  who  owed  every  thing  to  the  em- 
peror, their  uncle,  loved  their  country  with  whole-souled 
devotion.  Their  eyes  ever  turned  toward  France,  busied 
with  the  consideration  of  institutions  that  might  make 
France  happy;  they  knew  that  the  people  alone  were 
their  friends ;  the  hatred  of  the  great  had  taught  them 


€^42  QUEEN  HORTENSB. 

this.  To  conform  to  the  will  of  the  people  with  resigna- 
tion was  to  them  a  duty,  but  to  devote  themselves  to  the 
service  of  France  was  their  hearts'  dearest  wish.  It  was 
for  this  reason  that  my  son  had  written  to  Louis  Philippe, 
hoping  to  be  permitted  to  make  himself  useful  to  his 
country  in  some  way." 

Hortense  advised  against  this  venturous  step ;  and 
when  she  saw  how  much  this  grieved  her  son,  and  ob- 
served his  eyes  filling  with  tears,  she  begged  that  he 
would  at  least  wait  and  reflect,  and  postpone  his  decision 
until  their  arrival  in  Paris. 

Louis  Napoleon  yielded  to  his  mother's  entreaties,  and 
in  silence  and  sadness  these  two  pilgrims  continued  their 
wandering  through  the  country  and  cities,  that  to  Hor- 
tense seemed  transformed  into  luminous  monuments  of 
departed  glory. 

In  Fontainebleau  Hortense  showed  her  son  the  palace 
that  had  been  the  witness  of  the  greatest  triumphs  and 
also  of  the  most  bitter  grief  of  his  great  uncle.  Lean- 
ing on  his  arm,  her  countenance  concealed  by  a  heavy 
black  veil,  to  prevent  any  one  from  recognizing  her,  Hor- 
tense walked  through  the  chambers,  in  which  she  had 
once  been  installed  as  a  mighty  and  honored  queen,  and 
in  which  she  was  now  covertly  an  exile  menaced  with 
death.  The  servants  who  conducted  her  were  the  same 
who  had  been  there  during  the  days  of  the  emperor! 
Hortense  recognized  them  at  once ;  she  did  not  dare  to 
make  herself  known,  but  she  nevertheless  felt  that  she, 
too,  was  remembered  there.     She  saw  this  in  the  expres- 


THE  PILGRIMAGE.  343 

edon  with  which  the  servants  opened  the  rooms  she  had 
once  occupied ;  she  heard  it  in  the  tone  in  which  thej 
mentioned  her  name !  Every  thing  in  tliis  palace  had 
remained  as  it  then  was  !  There  was  the  same  furniture 
in  the  rooms  which  the  imperial  family  had  occupied 
after  the  peace  of  Tilsit,  and  in  which  they  had  given 
such  brilliant y<2^,  and  received  the  homage  of  so  many 
of  the  kings  and  princes  of  Europe,  all  of  whom  had 
come  to  implore  the  assistance  and  favor  of  their  van- 
quisher !  There  were  also  the  apartments  which  the  pope 
had  occupied,  once  voluntarily ;  subsequently,  under  com- 
pulsion. Alas !  and  there  was  also  the  little  cabinet,  in 
which  the  emperor,  the  once  so  mighty  and  illustrious 
ruler  of  Europe,  had  abdicated  the  crown  which  his  vic- 
tories, his  good  deeds,  and  the  love  of  the  French  people, 
had  placed  on  his  head !  And,  finally,  there  were  also 
the  chapel  and  the  altar  before  which  the  Emperor  Napo- 
leon had  stood  god-father  to  his  nephew  Louis  Napoleon ! 
All  was  still  as  it  had  been,  except  that  the  garden,  that 
Hortense  and  her  mother  had  laid  out  and  planted,  had 
grown  more  luxuriant,  and  now  sang  to  the  poor  banished 
pilgrim  with  its  rustling  tree-tops  a  melancholy  song  of 
her  long  separation  from  her  home ! 

The  sorrowing  couple  wandered  on,  and  at  last  arrived 
before  the  gates  of  Paris.  At  this  moment,  Hortense  was 
a  Frenchwoman,  a  Parisian  only,  and,  forgetting  every 
thing  else,  all  her  grief  and  sufferings,  she  sought  only  to 
do  the  honors  of  Paris  for  her  son.  She  ordered  the 
coachman  to  drive  them  through  the  boulevards  to  the 


344  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

Rue  de  la  Paix,  and  then  to  stop  at  the  first  good  hotel. 
This  was  the  same  way  over  which  she  had  passed  sixteen 
years  before,  escorted  by  an  Austrian  officer.  Then  she 
had  quitted  Paris  by  night,  driven  out  in  a  measure  by 
the  allies,  who  so  much  feared  her,  the  poor,  weak  woman, 
with  her  little  boys,  that  troops  had  been  placed  under 
arms  at  regular  intervals  on  her  way,  in  order,  as  it  was 
given  out,  to  secure  her  safe  passage.  Now,  after  sixteen 
years,  Hortense  returned  to  Paris  by  the  same  route,  still 
exiled  and  homeless,  at  her  side  the  son  who  was  not  only 
menaced  by  the  French  decree  of  banishment,  but  also  by 
the  Austrian  edict  of  proscription. 

But  yet  she  was  once  more  in  Paris,  once  more  at 
home,  and  she  wept  with  joy  at  beholding  once  more  the 
streets  and  places  about  which  the  memories  of  her  youth 
clustered. 

By  a  strange  chance,  it  was  at  the  ^'  Hdtel  de  Hol- 
lander'' that  the  former  Queen  of  Holland  descended 
from  her  carriage,  and  took  up  her  residence,  holding 
thus,  in  a  measure,  her  entrance  into  Paris,  under  the  flut- 
tering banner  of  the  past.  In  the  little  Hotel  de  Hoi- 
lamde^  the  Queen  of  Holland  took  possession  of  the 
apartments  of  the  first  floor,  which  commanded  a  view 
of  the  boulevard  and  the  column  of  the  Place  Yendome. 
"Say  to  the  column  on  the  Place  Vendome  that  I  am 
dying,  because  I  cannot  embrace  it,"  the  Duke  de  Reich- 
stadt  once  wrote  in  the  album  of  a  French  nobleman,  who 
had  succeeded,  in  spite  of  the  watchful  spies,  who  sur- 
rounded the  emperor's  son,  in  speaking  to  him  of  his 


THE  PILGRIMAGE.  345 

father  and  of  the  empire.  This  happiness,  vainly  longed 
for  by  the  emperor's  son,  was  at  least  to  be  enjoyed  by 
his  nephew. 

Louis  Napoleon  could  venture  to  show  himself.  In 
Paris  he  was  entirely  unknown,  and  could  therefore  be 
betrayed  by  no  one.  He  could  go  down  into  the  square 
and  hasten  to  the  foot  of  the  Vendome  column,  and  in 
thought  at  least  kneel  down  before  the  monument  that 
immortaHzed  the  renown  and  grandeur  of  the  emperor. 
Hortense  remained  behind,  in  order  to  perform  a  sacred 
duty,  imposed  on  her,  as  she  believed,  by  her  own  honor 
and  dignity. 

She  was  not  willing  to  sojourn  secretly,  like  a  fugi- 
tive criminal,  in  the  city  that  in  the  exercise  of  its  free 
will  had  chosen  itself  a  king,  but  not  a  Bonaparte.  She 
was  not  willing  to  partake  of  French  hospitality  and  en- 
joy French  protection  by  stealth ;  she  was  not  willing  to 
go  about  in  disguise,  deceiving  the  government  with  a 
false  pass  and  a  borrowed  name.  She  had  the  courage 
of  truth  and  sincerity,  and  she  resolved  to  say  to  the 
King  of  France  that  she  had  come,  not  to  defy  his  de- 
cree of  banishment  by  her  presence,  not  for  the  purpose 
of  intriguing  against  his  new  crown,  by  arousing  the 
Bonapartists  from  their  sleep  of  forgetfulness  by  her 
appearance,  but  solely  because  there  was  no  other  means 
of  saving  her  son ;  because  she  must  pass  through  France 
with  him  in  order  to  reach  England. 

Revolution,  which  so  strangely  intermingles  the  des- 
tinies  of  men,  had  surrounded  the  new  king  almost  en- 


346  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

tirely  with  the  friends  and  servants  of  the  emperor  and 
of  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu.  But,  in  order  not  to  excite 
suspicion  against  these,  Hortense  now  addressed  herself 
to  him  with  whom  she  had  the  slightest  acquaintance^ 
and  whose  devotion  to  the  Orleans  family  was  too  well 
known  to  be  called  in  doubt  by  her  undertaking.  Hor- 
tense therefore  addressed  herself  to  M.  de  Houdetot,  the 
adjutant  of  the  king,  or  rather,  she  caused  her  friend 
Mile,  de  Massuyer  to  write  to  him.  She  was  instructed 
to  inform  the  count  that  she  had  come  to  Paris  with  an 
English  family,  and  was  the  bearer  of  a  commission  from 
the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu  to  M.  de  Houdetot. 

M.  de  Houdetot  responded  to  her  request,  and  came 
to  the  Hotel  de  Hollande  to  see  Mile.  Massuyer.  With 
surprise  and  emotion,  he  recognized  in  the  supposititious 
English  lady  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu,  who  was  believed 
by  all  the  world  to  be  on  the  way  to  Malta,  and  for 
whom  her  friends  (who  feared  the  fatigue  of  so  long  a 
journey  would  be  too  much  for  Hortense  in  her  weak 
state  of  health)  had  already  taken  steps  to  obtain  for  her 
permission  to  pass  through  France  on  her  way  to  England. 

Hortense  informed  Count  Houdetot  of  the  last 
strokes  of  destiny  that  had  fallen  upon  her,  and  ex- 
pressed  her  desire  to  see  the  king,  in  order  to  speak  with 
him  in  person  about  the  future  of  her  son. 

M.  de  Houdetot  undertook  to  acquaint  the  king  with 
her  desire,  and  came  on  the  following  day  to  inform  the 
duchess  of  the  result  of  his  mission.  He  told  the  duch- 
ess that  the  king  had  loudly  lamented  her  boldness  in 


LOUIS  PHILIPPE  AND  THE  DUCHESS  OP  ST.  LEU.  347 

coming  to  France,  and  the  impossibility  of  his  seeing 
her.  He  told  her,  moreover,  that,  as  the  king  had  a  re- 
sponsible ministry  at  his  side,  he  had  been  compelled  to 
inform  the  premier  of  her  arrival,  and  that  Minister 
Casimir  Perrier  would  call  on  her  during  the  day. 

A  few  hours  later,  Louis  Philippe's  celebrated  minis- 
ter arrived.  He  came  with  an  air  of  earnest  severity,  as 
it  were  to  sit  in  judgment  upon  the  accused  duchess,  but 
her  artless  sincerity  and  her  gentle  dignity  disarmed  him, 
and  soon  caused  him  to  assume  a  more  delicate  and  po- 
lite bearing. 

"  I  well  know,"  said  Hortense  in  the  course  of  the 
conversation,  "  I  well  know  that  I  have  broken  a  law,  by 
coming  hither;  I  fully  appreciate  the  gravity  of  this 
offence ;  you  have  the  right  to  cause  me  to  be  arrested, 
and  it  would  be  perfectly  just  in  you  to  do  so ! " — Casi- 
mir Perrier  shook  his  head  slowly,  and  replied :  "  Just, 
no  !     Lawful,  yes !  "  * 


CHAPTER  YIII. 

Louis   PHILIPPE   AND  THE   DUCHESS   OF   ST.    LEU. 

The  visit  which  Casimir  Perrier  had  paid  the  duch- 
ess seemed  to  have  convinced  him  that  the  fears  which 
the  king  and  his  ministry  had  entertained  had  really  been 
groundless,  that  the  step-daughter  of  Napoleon  had  not 
come  to  Paris  to  conspire  and  to  claim  the  still  somewhat 

*  La  Beine  Hortense :  Voyage  en  Italie,  etc.,  p.  110. 


34:8  QUEEN  HOKTENSE. 

unstable  throne  of  France  for  the  Duke  de  Eeichstadt, 
or  for  Louis  iJ^apoleon,  but  that  she  had  only  chosen 
the  way  through  France,  in  the  anxiety  of  maternal  love, 
in  order  to  rescue  her  son. 

In  accordance  with  this  conviction,  Louis  Philippe  no 
longer  considered  it  impossible  to  see  the  Duchess  of  St. 
Leu,  but  now  requested  her  to  call.  Perhaps  the  king, 
who  had  so  fine  a  memory  for  figures  and  money-mat- 
"ters,  remembered  that  it  had  been  Hortense  (then  still 
Queen  of  Holland)  who,  during  the  hundred  days  of  the 
•empire  in  1815,  had  procured  for  the  Duchess  Orleans- 
Penthievre,  from  the  emperor,  permission  to  remain  in 
Paris  and  a  pension  of  two  hundred  thousand  francs  per 
annum;  that  it  had  been  Hortense  who  had  done  the 
«ame  for  the  aunt  of  the  present  king,  the  Duchess  of 
Orleans-Bourbon.  Then,  in  their  joy  over  an  assured 
and  brilliant  future,  these  ladies  had  written  the  duchess 
the  most  affectionate  and  devoted  letters ;  then  they  had 
assured  Hortense  of  their  eternal  and  imperishable  grati- 
tude.* Perhaps  Louis  Philippe  remembered  this,  and 
was  desirous  of  rewarding  Hortense  for  her  services  to 
liis  mother  and  his  aunt. 

He  solicited  a  visit  from  Hortense,  and,  on  the  second 
day  of  her  sojourn  in  Paris,  M.  de  Houdetot  conducted 
the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu  to  the  Tuileries,  in  which  she  had 
once  lived  as  a  young  girl,  as  the  step-daughter  of  the 
emperor ;  then  as  Queen  of  Holland,  as  the  wife  of  the 
emperor's  brother ;  and  which  she  now  beheld  once  more, 

*  La  Reine  Hortense :  Voyage  en  Italie,  etc.,  p.  185. 


LOUIS  PHILIPPE  AND  THE  DUCHESS  OP  ST.  LEU.  349 

a  poor,  nameless  pilgrim,  a  fugitive  with  shrouded  coun- 
tenance, imploring  a  little  toleration  and  protection  of 
those  to  whom  she  had  once  accorded  toleration  and  pro- 
tection. 

Louis  Philippe  received  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu  with 
all  the  elegance  and  graciousness  which  the  "Citizen 
King  "  so  well  knew  how  to  assume,  and  that  had  always 
been  an  inheritance  of  his  house,  with  all  the  amiability 
and  apparent  open-heartedness  beneath  which  he  so  well 
knew  how  to  conceal  his  real  disposition.  Coming  to 
the  point  at  once,  he  spoke  of  that  which  doubtlessly 
interested  the  duchess  most,  of  the  decree  of  banish- 
ment. 

"  I  am  familiar,"  said  the  king,  "  with  all  the  pains  of 
exile,  and  it  is  not  my  fault  that  yours  have  not  been 
alleviated."  He  assured  her  that  this  decree  of  banish- 
ment against  the  Bonaparte  family  was  a  heavy  burden 
on  his  heart;  he  went  so  far  as  to  excuse  himself  for  it 
by  saying  that  the  exile  pronounced  against  the  imperial 
family  was  only  an  article  of  the  same  law  which  the  con- 
ventionists  had  abolished,  and  the  renewal  of  which  had 
been  so  vehemently  demanded  by  the  country !  Thus  it 
had  seemed  as  though  he  had  uttered  a  new  decree  of 
banishment,  while  in  point  of  fact  he  had  only  renewed 
a  law  that  had  already  existed  under  the  consulate  of 
Napoleon.  "  But,"  continued  the  king  with  exultation, 
^*  the  time  is  no  longer  distant  when  there  will  be  no  more 
-exiles ;  I  will  have  none  under  my  government !  " 

Then,  as  if  to  remind  the  duchess  that  there  had  been 


350  QUEEN  HORTENSB. 

exiles  and  decrees  of  banishment  at  all  times,  also  under 
the  republic,  the  consulate,  and  the  kingdom,  he  spoke  of 
his  own  exile,  of  the  needy  and  humiliating  situation  in 
which  he  had  found  himself,  and  which  had  compelled 
him  to  hire  himself  out  as  a  teacher  and  give  instruction 
for  a  paltry  consideration. 

The  duchess  had  listened  to  the  king  with  a  gentle 
smile,  and  replied  that  she  knew  the  story  of  his  exile, 
and  that  it  did  him  honor. 

Then  the  duchess  informed  the  king  that  her  son 
had  accompanied  her  on  her  journey,  and  was  now  with 
her  in  Paris  ;  she  also  told  him  that  her  son,  in  hi& 
glowing  enthusiasm  for  his  country,  had  written  to  the 
king,  begging  that  he  might  be  permitted  to  enter  the 
army. 

"  Lend  me  the  letter,"  replied  Louis  Philippe  ;  "  Per- 
rier  shall  bring  it  to  me,  and,  if  circumstances  permit,  I 
shall  be  perfectly  willing  to  grant  your  son's  request ;  and 
it  will  also  give  me  great  pleasure  to  serve  you  at  all 
times.  I  know  that  you  have  legitimate  claims  on  the 
government,  and  that  you  have  appealed  to  the  justice  of 
all  former  ministries  in  vain.  Write  out  a  statement  of 
all  that  France  owes  you,  and  send  it  to  ms  alone.  I  un- 
derstand business  matters,  and  constitute  myself  from  this- 
time  on  your  charge  d? affaires/^  The  Duke  of  Kovigo," 
he  continued,  "  has  informed  me  that  the  other  members 
of  the  imperial  family  have  similar  claims.  It  will  afford 
me  great  pleasure  to  be  of  assistance  to  all  of  you,  and  I 

*  The  king's  own  words.    See  Voyage  en  Italie,  etc.,  p.  201. 


LOUIS  PHILIPPE  AND  THE  DUCHESS  OF  ST.  LEU.  351 

shall  interest  myself  particularly  for  the  Princess  de  Mont- 
fort."* 

Hortense  had  listened  to  the  king,  her  whole  face 
radiant  with  delight.  The  king's  beneficent  countenance, 
his  friendly  smile,  his  hearty  and  cordial  manner,  dis- 
pelled all  doubt  of  his  sincerity  in  Hortense's  mind.  She 
believed  in  his  goodness  and  in  his  kindly  disposition 
toward  herself  ;  and,  in  her  joyous  emotion,  she  thanked 
him  with  words  of  enthusiasm  for  his  promised  benefits, 
never  doubting  that  it  was  his  intention  to  keep  his  word. 

"  Ah,  sire ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  the  entire  imperial 
family  is  in  misfortune,  and  you  will  have  many  wrongs 
to  redress.  France  owes  us  all  a  great  deal,  and  it  will 
be  worthy  of  you  to  liquidate  these  debts." 

The  king  declared  his  readiness  to  do  every  thing. 
He  who  was  so  fond  of  taking  in  millions  and  of  specu- 
lating, smilingly  promised,  in  the  name  of  France,  to  dis- 
burse millions,  and  to  pay  off  the  old  state  debt ! 

The  duchess  believed  him.  She  believed  in  his  pro- 
testations of  friendship,  and  in  his  blunt  sincerity.  She 
allowed  him  to  conduct  her  to  his  wife,  the  queen,  and 
was  received  by  her  and  Madame  Adelaide  with  the  same 
cordiality  the  king  had  shown.  Once  only  in  the  course 
of  the  conversation  did  Madame  Adelaide  forget  her  cor- 
dial disposition.  She  asked  the  duchess  how  long  she 
expected  to  remain  in  Paris,  and  when  the  latter  replied 
that  she  intended  remaining  three  days  longer,  Madame 

f  The  Princess  de  Montfort  was  the  wife  of  Jerome,  the  sister  of 
the  King  of  Wurtemberg,  and  a  cousin  of  the  Emperor  of  Russia. 


352  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  anxious  dismay :  "  So  long ! 
Three  days  still !  And  there  are  so  many  Englishmen 
here  who  have  seen  your  son  in  Italy,  and  might  recog- 
nize you  here ! " 

But  Fate  itself  seemed  to  delay  the  departure  of  the 
duchess  and  her  son.  On  returning  home  from  her  visit 
to  the  Tuileries,  she  found  her  son  on  his  bed  in  a  violent 
fever,  and  the  physician  who  had  been  called  in  declared 
that  he  was  suffering  from  inflammation  of  the  throat. 

Hortense  was  to  tremble  once  more  for  the  life  of  a 
son,  and  this  son  was  the  last  treasure  Fate  had  left  her. 

Once  more  the  mother  sat  at  the  bedside  of  her  son, 
watching  over  him,  lovingly,  day  and  night.  That  her 
son's  life  might  be  preserved  was  now  her  only  wish,  her 
only  prayer ;  all  else  became  void  of  interest,  and  was  lost 
sight  of.  She  only  left  her  son's  side  when  Casimir  Per- 
rier  came,  as  he  was  in  the  habit  of  doing  daily,  to  inquire 
after  her  son's  condition  in  the  name  of  the  king,  and  to 
request  the  duchess  to  name  the  amount  of  her  claims 
against  France,  and  to  impart  to  him  all  her  wishes  with 
regard  to  her  future.  Hortense  now  had  but  one  ardent 
wish — the  recovery  of  her  son ;  and  her  only  request  was, 
that  she  might  be  permitted  to  visit  the  French  baths  of 
the  Pyrenees  during  the  summer,  in  order  to  restore  her 
failing  health. 

The  minister  promised  to  procure  this  permission  of 
the  king,  and  of  the  Chambers,  that  were  soon  to  be  con- 
vened. "  In  this  way  we  shall  gradually  become  accus- 
tomed to  your  presence,"  observed  Casimir  Perrier.    "  As 


LOmS  PHILIPPE  AND  THE  DUCHESS  OF  ST.  LEU.  353 

far  as  you  are  personally  concerned,,  we  shall  be  inclined 
to  throw  open  the  gates  of  the  country  to  you.  But  with 
your  son  it  is  different,  his  name  will  be  a  perpetual 
obstacle  in  his  way.  If  he  should  really  desire  at  any 
time  to  take  service  in  the  army,  it  would  be,  above  all, 
necessary  that  he  should  lay  aside  liis  name.  We  are  in 
duty  bound  to  consider  the  wishes  of  foreign  govern- 
ments: France  is  divided  into  so  many  parties,  that  a 
war  could  only  be  ruinous,  and  therefore  your  son  must 
change  his  name,  if — " 

But  now  the  duchess,  her  cheeks  glowing,  blushing 
with  displeasure  and  anger,  interrupted  him.  "  What !  '^ 
exclaimed  she,  "  lay  aside  the  noble  name  with  which 
France  may  well  adorn  itself,  conceal  it  as  though  we 
had  cause  to  be  ashamed  of  it  ? " 

Beside  herself  with  anger,  regardless,  in  her  agitation^ 
even  of  the  suffering  condition  of  her  son,  she  hastened 
to  his  bedside,  to  inform  him  of  the  proposition  made  to 
her  by  Louis  Philippe's  minister. 

The  prince  arose  in  his  couch,  his  eyes  flaming,  ancj 
his  cheeks  burning  at  the  same  time  with  the  fever-heat 
of  disease  and  of  anger. 

"  Lay  aside  my  name ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  Who  dares 
to  make  such  a  proposition  to  me  ?  Let  us  think  of  all 
these  things  no  more,  mother.  Let  us  go  back  to  our 
retirement  Ah,  you  were  right,  mother :  our  time  is 
passed,  or  it  has  not  yet  come ! " 


364  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

CHAPTEE  IX. 

THE  DEPAETUEE  OF  THE  DUCHESS  FROM  PAEIS. 

Excitement  had  made  the  patient  worse,  and  caused 
his  fever  to  return  with  renewed  violence.  Hortense 
was  now  inseparable  from  his  bedside ;  she  herself  ap- 
pHed  ice  to  his  burning  throat,  and  assisted  in  applying 
the  leeches  ordered  by  the  physician.  But  this  continu- 
ous anxiety  and  excitement,  all  these  troubles  of  the 
present,  and  sad  remembrances  of  the  past,  had  at  last 
exhausted  the  strength  of  the  delicate  woman ;  the  flush 
of  fever  now  began  to  show  itself  on  her  cheeks  also, 
and  the  physician  urged  her  to  take  daily  exercise  in  the 
open  air  if  she  desired  to  avoid  falling  ill. 

Hortense  followed  his  advice.  In  the  evening  twi- 
light, in  plain  attire,  her  face  concealed  by  a  heavy  black 
veil,  she  now  daily  quitted  her  son's  bedside,  and  went 
out  into  the  street  for  a  walk,  accompanied  by  the  young 
Marquis  Zappi.  'No  one  recognized  her,  no  one  greeted 
her,  no  one  dreamed  that  the  veiled  figure  that  walked 
€0  quietly  and  shyly  was  she  who,  as  Queen  of  Holland, 
had  formerly  driven  through  these  same  streets  in  gilded 
coaches,  hailed  by  the  joyous  shouts  of  the  people. 

But,  in  these  wanderings  through  Paris,  Hortense  also 
lived  in  her  memories  only.  She  showed  the  marquis 
the  dwelling  she  had  once  occupied,  and  which  had  for 
her  a  single  happy  association  :  her  sons  had  been  born 
there.     With  a  soft  smile  she  looked  up  at  the  proud 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  THE  DUCHESS  FROM  PARIS.  355 

faqade  of  this  building,  the  windows  of  which  were  bril- 
liantly illumined,  and  in  whose  parlors  some  banker  or 
ennobled  provision-dealer  was  now  perhaps  giving  a  ball ; 
pointing  to  these  windows  with  her  slender  white  hand, 
she  said  :  "  I  wished  to  see  this  house,  in  order  to  re- 
proach myself  for  having  been  unhappy  in  it;  yes,  I 
then  dared  to  complain  even  in  the  midst  of  so  much 
splendor ;  I  was  so  far  from  dreaming  of  the  weight  of 
the  misfortune  that  was  one  day  to  come  upon  me."  * 

She  looked  down  again  and  passed  on,  to  seek  the 
houses  of  several  friends,  of  whom  she  knew  that  they 
had  remained  faithful ;  heavily  veiled  and  enveloped  in 
her  dark  cloak  she  stood  in  front  of  these  houses,  not 
daring  to  acquaint  her  friends  with  her  presence,  con- 
tented with  the  sweet  sense  of  being  near  them  ! 

When,  after  having  strengthened  her  heart  with  the 
consciousness  of  being  near  friends,  she  parsed  on 
through  the  streets,  in  which  she,  the  daughter  of  France, 
was  now  unknown,  homeless,  and  forgotten! — no,  not 
forgotten! — as  she  chanced  to  glance  in  at  a  store  she 
was  just  passing,  she  saw  in  the  lighted  window  her  own 
portrait  at  the  side  of  that  of  the  emperor. 

Overcome  by  a  sweet  emotion,  Hortense  stood  still 
and  gazed  at  these  pictures.  The  laughing,  noisy  crowd 
on  the  sidewalk  passed  on,  heedless  of  the  shrouded 
woman  who  stood  there  before  the  shop-window,  gazing 
with  tearful  eyes  at  her  own  portrait.  "  It  seems  we  are 
still  remembered,"  whispered  she,  in  a  low  voice.    "  Those 

♦  The  duchess's  own  words :  see  Voyage,  etc.,  p.  226. 


356  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

who  wear  crowns  are  not  to  be  envied,  and  should  not 
lament  their  loss ;  but  is  it  possible  that  the  love  of  the 
people,  to  receive  which  is  so  sweet,  has  not  yet  been 
wholly  withdrawn  from  us  ? " 

The  profound  indifference  with  which  France  had 
accepted  the  exile  of  the  Bonapartes  had  grieved  her 
deeply.  She  had  only  longed  for  some  token  of  love  and 
fidelity  in  order  that  she  might  go  back  into  exile  con- 
soled and  strengthened.  And  now  she  found  it.  France 
proved  to  her  through  these  portraits  that  she  was  not 
forgotten. 

Hortense  stepped  with  her  companion  into  the  store 
to  purchase  the  portraits  of  herself  and  of  the  emperor ; 
and  when  she  was  told  that  these  portraits  were  in  great 
demand,  and  that  many  of  them  were  sold  to  the  people, 
she  hardly  found  strength  to  repress  the  tears  of  blissful 
emotion  that  rose  from  her  heart  to  her  eyes.  She  took 
the  portraits  and  hastened  home,  to  show  them  to  her 
son  and  to  bring  to  him  with  them  the  love-greetings  of 
France.  While  the  duchess,  her  thoughts  divided  be- 
tween the  remembrances  of  the  past  and  the  cares  and 
troubles  of  the  present,  had  been  sojourning  in  Paris  for 
twelve  days,  all  the  papers  were  extolling  the  heroism  of 
the  duchess  in  having  saved  her  son,  and  of  her  having 
embarked  at  Malta  in  order  to  take  him  to  England. 

Even  the  king's  ministerial  council  occupied  itself 
with  this  matter,  and  thought  it  proper  to  make  repre- 
sentations to  his  majesty  on  the  subject.  Marshal  Sebas- 
tiani  informed  the  king  that  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu,  to 


THE  DEPARTURE  OP  THE  DUCHESS  FROM  PARIS.  357 

liis  certain  knowledge,  had  landed  at  Corfu.  With  lively 
interest  he  spoke  of  the  fatiguing  journey  at  sea  that  the 
duchess  would  be  compelled  to  make,  and  asked  almost 
timidly  if  she  might  not  be  permitted  to  travel  through 
France. 

The  king's  countenance  assumed  an  almost  sombre 
look,  and  he  repHed,  dryly :  "  Let  her  continue  her  jour- 
ney." Casimir  Perrier  bowed  his  head  over  the  paper 
that  lay  before  him,  in  order  to  conceal  his  mirth,  and 
minister  Barthe  availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  to 
give  a  proof  of  his  eloquence  and  of  his  severity,  by  ob- 
serving that  a  law  existed  against  the  duchess,  and  that  a 
law  was  a  sacred  thing  that  no  one  should  be  permitted 
to  evade. 

But  the  presence  of  the  duchess,  although  kept  a  se- 
cret, began  to  cause  the  king  and  his  premier  Casimir 
Perrier  more  and  more  uneasiness.  The  latter  had  al- 
ready once  informed  her  through  M.  de  Houdetot  that 
her  departure  was  absolutely  necessary  and  must  take 
place  at  once,  and  he  had  only  been  moved  to  consent  ta 
her  further  sojourn  by  the  condition  of  the  prince,  whose 
inflammation  of  the  throat  had  rendered  a  second  appli- 
cation of  leeches  necessary. 

They  were  now,  however,  on  the  eve  of  a  great  and 
dangerous  day,  of  the  5th  of  May.*  The  people  of  Paris 
were  strangely  moved,  and  the  new  government  saw 
with  much  apprehension  the  dawn  of  this  day  of  such 
great  memories  for  France.    There  seemed  to  be  some 

♦  The  anniversary  of  Napoleon's  death. 


358  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

justification  for  this  apprehension.  Since  the  break  of 
day,  thousands  of  people  had  flocked  to  the  column  on 
the  Place  Yenddme.  Silently  and  gravely  they  ap- 
proached the  monument,  in  order  to  adorn  with  wreaths 
of  flowers  the  eagles,  or  to  lay  them  at  the  foot  of  the 
column,  and  then  to  retire  mournfully. 

Hortense  stood  at  the  window  of  her  apartment,  look- 
ing on  with  folded  hands  and  tears  of  bliss  at  the  im- 
pressive and  solemn  scene  that  was  taking  place  on  the 
Place  Yenddme  beneath,  when  suddenly  a  violent  knock- 
ing was  heard  at  her  door,  and  M.  de  Houdetot  rushed 
in,  a  pale  and  sorrowful  expression  on  his  countenance. 

"  Duchess,"  said  he  breathlessly,  "  you  must  depart 
immediately,  without  an  hour's  delay !  I  am  ordered  to 
inform  you  of  this.  Unless  the  life  of  your  son  is  to  be 
seriously  endangered,  you  must  leave  at  once !  " 

Hortense  listened  to  him  tranquilly.  She  almost 
pitied  the  king — the  government — to  whom  a  weak 
woman  and  an  invalid  youth  could  cause  such  fear. 
How  great  must  this  fear  be,  when  it  caused  them  to 
disregard  all  the  laws  of  hospitality  and  of  decency! 
What  had  she  done  to  justify  this  fear  ?  She  had  not 
addressed  herself  to  the  people  of  France,  in  order  to 
obtain  help  and  protection  for  her  son — for  the  nephew 
of  the  emperor;  cautiously  and  timidly  she  had  con- 
cealed herself  from  the  people,  and,  far  from  being  dis- 
posed to  arouse  or  agitate  her  country,  she  had  only  made 
herself  known  to  the  King  of  France  in  order  to  soHcit 
protection  and  toleration  at  his  hands. 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  THE  DUCHESS  FROM  PARIS.  359 

She  was  distrusted,  in  spite  of  tliis  candor ;  and  her 
presence,  although  known  to  no  one,  awakened  appre- 
hensions in  those  in  authority.  Hortense  pitied  them ; 
not  a  word  of  complaint  or  regret  escaped  her  lips.  She 
sent  for  her  physician  at  once ;  and,  after  informing  him 
that  she  must  necessarily  depart  for  London,  she  asked 
him  if  such  a  journey  would  endanger  her  son's  life. 
The  physician  declared  that,  while  he  could  have  desired 
a  few  days  more  of  repose,  the  prince  would  neverthe- 
less, with  proper  care  and  attention,  be  able  to  leave  on 
the  following  day. 

"Inform  the  king  that  I  shall  depart  to-morrow," 
said  Hortense ;  and,  while  M.  de  Houdetot  was  hastening 
to  the  king  with  this  welcome  intelligence,  the  duchess 
was  making  preparations  for  the  journey,  which  she  be- 
gan with  her  son  early  on  the  following  morning. 

In  four  days  they  reached  Calais,  where  they  found 
the  ship  that  was  to  convey  them  to  England  in  readiness 
to  sail.  Hortense  was  to  leave  her  country  once  more 
as  a  fugitive  and  exile !  She  was  once  more  driven  out, 
and  condemned  to  live  in  a  foreign  country !  Because 
the  French  people  still  refused  to  forget  tlieir  emperor, 
the  French  kings  hated  and  feared  the  imperial  family. 
Under  the  old  Bourbons,  they  had  been  hated ;  Louis 
Philippe,  who  had  attained  his  crown  through  the  peo- 
ple, felt  that  it  was  necessary  to  flatter  the  people,  and 
show  some  consideration  for  their  sympathies.  He  de- 
clared to  the  people  that  he  entertained  the  most  pro- 
found admiration  for  their  great  emperor,  and  yet  ha 


360  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

issued  a  decree  of  banishment  against  the  Bonapartes; 
he  ordered  that  the  Yendome  column,  with  its  bronze 
statue  of  the  emperor,  should  be  adorned,  and  at  the  same 
time  his  decree  banished  the  daughter  and  the  nephew 
of  the  emperor  from  France,  and  drove  them  back  into  a 
foreign  country. 

Hortense  went,  but  she  felt,  in  the  pain  it  caused  her, 
that  she  was  leaving  her  country — the  country  in  which 
she  had  friends  whom  she  had  not  seen  again  ;  the  coun- 
try in  which  lay  her  mother's  grave,  which  she  had  not 
dared  to  visit ;  and,  finally,  the  grave  of  her  son !  She 
once  more  left  behind  .er  all  the  remembrances  of  her 
youth — all  the  places  she  had  loved ;  and  her  regret  and 
her  tears  made  know^  how  dear  these  things  still  were 
to  her;  that  the  banished  and  homeless  one  was  still 
powerless  to  banish  the  love  of  country  from  her  hearty 
and  that  France  was  still  her  home ! 


CHAPTEK  X. 

PILGRIMAGE  THROUGH   FRANCE. 

The  sojourn  of  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu  in  England 
where  she  arrived  with  her  son  after  a  stormy  passage, 
was  for  both  a  succession  of  triumphs  and  ovations.  The 
high  aristocracy  of  London  heaped  upon  her  proofs  of 
esteem,  of  reverence,  and  of  love ;  every  one  seemed 
anxious  to  atone  for  the  severity  and  cruelty  with  which 


PILGRIMAGE  THROUGH  FRANCE,  361 

England  had  treated  the  emperor,  by  giving  proofs  of 
their  admiration  and  respect  for  his  step-daughter.  All 
these  proud  English  aristocrats  seemed  desirous  of  prov- 
ing to  the  duchess  and  her  son  that  they  were  not  of  the 
same  disposition  as  Hudson  Lowe,  who  had  slowly  tor- 
mented the  chained  lion  to  death  with  petty  annoyances. 

The  Duchess  of  Bedford,  Lord  and  Lady  Holland, 
and  Lady  Grey,  in  particular,  were  untiring  in  their 
efforts  to  do  the  honors  of  their  country  to  Hor tense,  and 
to  show  her  every  possible  attention.  But  Hortense  de- 
chned  their  proffered  invitations.  She  avoided  all  pub- 
hcity ;  she  feared,  on  her  own  and  her  son's  account,  that 
the  tattle  of  the  world  and  the  newspapers  might  once 
more  draw  down  upon  her  the  distrust  and  ill-will  of  the 
French  government.  She  feared  that  this  might  prevent 
her  returning  with  her  son,  through  France,  to  her  quiet 
retreat  on  the  Lake  of  Constance,  in  Switzerland,  to  her 
charming  Arenenberg,  where  she  had  passed  so  many 
delightful  and  peaceful  years  of  repose  and  remembrance. 

Hortense  was  right.  Her  sojourn  in  England  ex- 
cited, as  soon  as  it  became  known,  in  every  quarter,  care, 
curiosity,  and  disquiet.  All  parties  were  seeking  to  di- 
vine the  duchess's  intention  in  residing  in  London.  All 
parties  were  convinced  that  she  entertained  plans  that 
might  endanger  and  frustrate  their  own.  The  Duchess 
de  Berri,  who  resided  in  Bath,  had  come  to  London  as 
soon  as  she  heard  of  the  arrival  of  the  Duchess  of  St. 
Leu,  in  order  to  inquire  into  Hortense's  real  intention. 

The  bold  and  enterprising  Duchess  de  Berri  was  prepar- 
224 


362  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

ing  to  go  to  France,  in  order  to  call  the  people  to  arms 
for  herself  and  son,  to  hurl  Louis  Philippe  from  his 
usurped  throne,  and  to  restore  to  her  son  his  rightful 
inheritance.  They,  therefore,  thought  it  perfectly  natu- 
ral that  Hortense  should  entertain  similar  plans  for  her 
son  ;  that  she,  too,  should  purpose  the  overthrow  of  the 
French  king  in  order  to  place  her  own  son,  or  the  son  of 
the  emperor,  the  Duke  de  Reichstadt,  on  the  throne. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  had  been  endeavored  to  per- 
suade Prince  Leopold,  of  Coburg,  to  whom  the  powers  of 
Europe  had  just  offered  the  crown  of  Belgium,  that  the 
Duchess  of  St.  Leu  had  come  to  England  in  order  to  pos- 
sess herself  of  Belgium  by  a  coujp  d'etat,  and  to  proclaim 
Louis  E"apoleon  its  king.  But  this  wise  and  magnani- 
mous prince  laughed  at  these  intimations.  He  had 
known  the  duchess  in  her  days  of  magnificence,  and  he 
now  hastened  to  lay  the  same  homage  at  the  foot  of  the 
homeless  woman  that  he  had  once  devoted  to  the  adored 
and  powerful  Queen  of  Holland.  He  called  on  the 
duchess,  conversed  with  her  of  her  beautiful  and  bril- 
liant past,  and  told  her  of  the  hopes  which  he  himself 
entertained  for  the  future.  Deeply  bowed  down  by  the 
death  of  his  beloved  wife,  Princess  Charlotte  of  England, 
it  was  his  purpose  to  seek  consolation  in  his  misfortune 
by  striving  to  make  his  people  happy.  He  had  therefore 
accepted  the  crown  tendered  him  by  the  people,  and  was 
on  the  point  of  departing  for  Belgium. 

While  taking  leave  of  the  duchess,  after  a  long  and 
cordial  conversation,  he  remarked,  with  a  gentle  smile : 


PILGRIMAGE  THROUGH  FRANCE.  363 

"  I  tmst  you  will  not  take  my  kingdom  away  from  me  on 
your  journey  through  Belgium  ? " 

While  the  new  government  of  France,  as  well  as  the 
exiled  Bourbons,  suspected  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu  and 
her  son  of  entertaining  plans  for  the  subversion  of  the 
French  throne,  the  imperialists  and  republicans  were 
hoping  that  Hortense's  influence  might  be  exerted  upon 
the  destinies  of  France.  Everywhere  in  France  as  well 
as  in  England,  the  people  were  of  the  opinion  that  the 
new  throne  of  Louis  Philippe  had  no  vitality,  because  it 
had  no  support  in  the  heart  of  the  people.  The  partisans 
of  the  Bourbons  believed  that  France  longed  for  the 
grandson  of  St.  Louis,  for  its  hereditary  king,  Henry  Y. ; 
the  imperialists  were  convinced  that  the  new  government 
was  about  to  be  overthrown,  and  that  France  was  more 
anxious  than  ever  to  see  the  emperors  son.  Napoleon  II., 
restored.  The  republicans,  however,  distrusted  the  people 
and  the  army,  and  began  to  perceive  that  they  could  only 
attain  the  longed-for  republican  institutions  under  a  Bo- 
naparte. They  therefore  sent  their  secret  emissaries  as 
well  to  the  Duke  de  Keichstadt  as  to  Louis  Napoleon. 

The  Dnke  de  Tteichstadt,  to  whom  these  emissaries 
proposed  that  he  should  come  to  France  and  present  him- 
self to  the  people,  replied  :  "  I  cannot  go  to  France  as  an 
adventurer  ;  let  the  nation  call  me,  and  I  shall  find  means 
to  get  there." 

To  the  propositions  made  to  him,  Louis  Napoleon  re- 
plied that  he  belonged  to  France  under  all  circumstances ; 
that  he  had  proved  this  by  asking  permission  to  serve 


:364:  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

France,  but  lie  had  been  rejected.  It  would  not  become 
him  to  force  to  a  decision  by  a  ccywp  Wetat  the  nation 
whose  decrees  he  would  ever  hold  sacred. 

Hortense  regarded  these  efforts  of  the  imperialists 
and  of  the  republicans  to  win  her  son  to  their  purposes 
with  a  sorrowful  and  anxious  heart.  She  hoped  and 
longed  for  nothing  more  than  the  privilege  of  living  in 
retirement  with  her  memories ;  she  felt  exhausted  and 
sobered  by  the  few  steps  she  had  already  taken  into  the 
great  world ;  she,  who  had  ever  felt  the  most  tender  sym- 
pathy for  the  misfortunes  of  others,  and  the  most  ardent 
desire  to  alleviate  them — she  had  nowhere  found  in  her 
misfortune  any  thing  but  injustice,  indifference,  and  cal- 
imany. 

Hortense  longed  to  be  back  at  Arenenberg,  in  her 
iSwiss  mountains.  Thither  she  desired  to  return  with  her 
son,  in  order  that  she  might  there  dream  with  him  of 
the  brilliant  days  that  had  been,  and  sing  with  him  the 
•exalted  song  of  her  remembrances  !  If  the  French  gov- 
-ernment  should  permit  her  to  journey  with  her  son 
through  France,  she  could  easily  and  securely  reach  the 
Swiss  Canton  of  Thurgau,  where  her  little  estate,  Are- 
nenberg,  lay  under  the  protection  of  the  republic;  the 
daughter  of  the  emperor  would  there  be  certain  to  find 
peace  and  repose ! 

The  duchess  there  wrote  to  M.  de  Houdetot,  begging 
him  to  procure  for  her  from  the  French  government  a 
passport,  permitting  her  to  travel  through  France  under 
some  assumed  name.     It  was  promised  her  after  long 


PILGRIMAGE  THROUGH  FRANCE.  365 

hesitation,  but  under  the  condition  that  she  should  not 
commence  her  journey  until  after  July,  until  after  the 
first  anniversary  of  the  coronation  of  Louis  Philippe. 

Hortense  agreed  to  this,  and  received  on  the  first  of 
August  a  passport,  which  permitted  her,  as  Madame  Are- 
nenberg,  to  pass  through  France  with  her  son  in  order  to 
return  to  her  estate  in  Switzerland. 

It  was  at  first  the  duchess's  intention,  notwithstanding 
the  unquiet  movements  that  were  taking  place  in  the  capi- 
tal, to  journey  through  Paris,  for  the  very  purpose  of 
proving,  by  her  quiet  and  uninterested  demeanor,  that 
she  had  no  share  whatever  in  these  movements  and  riots. 

But,  on  informing  Louis  Napoleon  of  her  intention, 
he  exclaimed,  with  sparkling  eyes  :  "  If  we  go  to  Paris, 
and  if  I  should  see  the  people  sabred  before  my  eyes,  I 
shall  not  be  able  to  resist  the  inclination  to  place  myself 
on  its  side  ! "  * 

Hortense  clasped  her  son  anxiously  in  her  arms,  as  if 
to  protect  him  from  all  danger,  on  her  maternal  heart. 
"  We  shall  not  go  to  Paris,"  said  she,  "  we  will  wander 
through  France,  and  pray  before  the  monuments  of  our 
happiness ! " 

On  the  7th  of  August  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu  left 
England  with  her  son,  Louis  Napoleon,  and  landed  after  a 
pleasant  passage  at  Boulogne. 

Boulogne  was  for  Hortense  the  first  monument  of  her 
happiness,  at  the  foot  of  which  she  wished  to  pray  I 
There,  during  the  most  brilliant  period  of  the  empire, 

♦  La  Reine  Hortense,  p.  276. 


366  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

she  had  attended  the  militsir j  fetes,  in  the  midst  of  which 
the  emperor  was  preparing  to  go  forth  to  encounter  new 
dangers,  and  to  reap,  perhaps,  new  renown.  A  high 
column  designated  the  place  where  these  camp-festivals 
had  once  taken  place.  It  had  been  erected  under  the 
empire,  but  under  the  restoration  the  name  of  Louis 
XYIII.  had  been  inscribed  on  it. 

Accompanied  by  the  prince,  the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu 
ascended  this  column,  in  order  to  show  him  from  its  sum- 
mit the  beautiful  and  flourishing  France,  that  had  once 
been  her  own  and  through  which  they  must  now  pass 
with  veiled  countenances  and  borrowed  names.  From 
there  she  pointed  out  to  him  the  situation  of  the  different 
camps,  the  location  of  the  imperial  tent,  then  the  place 
where  the  emperor's  throne  had  stood,  and  where  he  had 
first  distributed  crosses  of  the  legion  of  honor  among  the 
soldiers. 

With  a  glowing  countenance  and  in  breathless  atten- 
tion, Louis  Napoleon  listened  to  his  mother's  narrative. 
Hortense,  lost  in  her  recollections,  had  not  noticed  that 
two  other  visitors,  a  lady  and  a  gentleman,  were  now  also 
on  the  platform  and  had  listened  to  a  part  of  her  narra- 
tive. As  the  duchess  ceased  speaking,  they  approached 
to  tell  her  with  what  deep  interest  they  had  listened  to 
her  narrative  of  the  most  glorious  period  of  French  his- 
tory. They  were  a  young  married  couple  from  Paris, 
and  had  much  to  relate  concerning  the  parties  who  were 
now  arrayed  against  each  other  in  France,  and  who  made 
the  future  of  the  country  so  uncertain. 


PILGRIMAGE  THROUGH  FRANCE.  367 

In  return  for  Hortense's  so  eloquent  description  of  the 
past,  they  now  told  her  of  a  ton  mot  of  the  present  that 
was  going  the  rounds  of  Parisian  society.  It  was  there 
said  that  the  best  means  of  satisfying  everybody  and  all 
parties  would  be,  to  convert  France  into  a  republic  and  to 
give  it  three  consuls,  the  Duke  of  Reichstadt,  the  Duke 
of  Orleans,  and  the  Duke  of  Bordeaux.  "  But,"  added 
they,  "  it  might  easily  end  in  the  first  consul's  driving  out 
the  other  two.  and  making  himself  emperor." 

Hortense  found  the  courage  to  answer  this  jest  with  a 
smile,  but  she  hastened  to  leave  the  place  and  to  get  away 
from  the  couple,  who  had  perhaps  recognized  her,  and 
told  them  of  the  hon  mot  with  a  purpose. 

Sadly  and  silently,  mother  and  son  returned  to  their 
hotel,  which  was  situated  on  the  sea-side,  and  commanded 
a  fine  view  of  the  surging,  foaming  waters  of  the  channel 
and  of  the  lofty  column  of  the  empire. 

They  both  stepped  out  on  the  balcony.  It  was  a 
beautiful  evening ;  the  setting  sun  shed  its  purple  rays 
over  the  surface  of  the  sea.  Murmuring  and  in  melodi- 
ous face  the  foaming  waves  rolled  in  upon  the  beach  ;  on 
another  side,  the  lofty  column,  glowing  in  the  light  of  the 
setting  sun,  towered  aloft  like  a  pillar  of  fire,  a  memorial 
monument  of  fire ! 

Hortense,  who  for  some  time  had  been  silently  gazing, 
first  at  the  column,  then  at  the  sea,  now  turned  with  a  sad 
smile  to  her  son. 

"  Let  us  spend  an  hour  with  recollections  of  the  past," 
said  she.     ^^  In  the  presence  of  this  foaming  sea  and  of 


368  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

this  proud  column,  I  will  show  you  a  picture  of  the  past 
Do  you  wish  to  see  it  ? " 

His  gaze  fastened  on  the  imperial  column,  Louis  IS'a- 
poleon  silently  nodded  assent. 

Hortense  went  to  her  room,  and  soon  returned  to  the 
balcony  with  a  book,  bound  in  red  velvet.  Often,  during 
the  quiet  days  of  Arenenberg,  the  prince  had  seen  her 
writing  in  this  book,  but  never  had  Hortense  yielded  to 
his  entreaties  and  permitted  him  to  read  any  part  of  her 
memoirs.  Unsolicited  it  was  her  intention  to  unfold  be- 
fore him  to-day  a  brilliant  picture ;  in  view  of  the  sad 
and  desolate  present,  she  wished  to  portray  to  him  the 
bright  and  glittering  past,  perhaps  only  for  the  purpose 
of  entertaining  him,  perhaps  in  order  to  console  him  with 
the  hope  that  all  that  is  passes  away,  and  that  the  present 
would  therefore  also  come  to  an  end,  and  that  which  once 
was,  again  become  reality  for  him,  the  heir  of  the  em- 
peror. 

She  seated  herself  at  her  son's  side,  on  a  little  sofa 
that  stood  on  the  balcony,  and,  opening  her  book,  began 
to  read. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

FRAGMENT   FKOM   THE   MEMOIRS   OF   QUEEN   HORTENSE. 

"  The  emperor  had  returned  from  Italy.  The  beauti' 
ful  ceremony  of  the  distribution  of  the  crosses  of  the 
Legion  of  Honor  had  taken  place  before  his  departure, 
and  I  had  been  present  on  the   occasion ;    the  emperor 


FRAGMENT  FROM  MEMOIRS  OF  QUEEN  HORTENSE.  369 

now  repaired  to  Boulogne,  in  order  to  make  a  second  dis- 
tribution of  the  order  in  the  army  on  his  birthday.  He 
had  made  my  husband  general  of  the  army  of  the  reserve, 
and  sent  him  a  courier,  with  the  request  that  he  should 
come  with  me  and  our  son  to  the  camp  at  Boulogne.  My 
husband  did  not  wish  to  interrupt  the  baths  he  was  taking 
at  St.  Amand,  but  he  requested  me  to  go  to  Boulogne,  to 
spend  a  week  with  the  emperor. 

"  The  emperor  resided  at  Boulogne  in  a  little  villa 
called  Pont  de  Brigue.  His  sister,  Caroline,  and  Murat, 
lived  in  another  Httle  villa  near  by.  I  lived  with  them^ 
and  every  day  we  went  to  dine  with  the  emperor.  Dur- 
ing two  years,  our  troops  had  been  concentrating  in  full 
view  of  England,  and  every  one  expected  an  attack.  The 
camp  at  Boulogne  was  erected  on  the  sea-side,  and  re- 
sembled a  long  and  regularly-built  city.  Each  hut  had  a 
little  garden,  flowers,  and  birds.  In  the  middle  of  the 
camp,  on  an  elevation,  stood  the  emperor's  tent ;  near  by, 
that  of  Marshal  Berthier.  All  the  men-of-war  on  the 
water  were  drawn  up  in  a  line,  only  waiting  the  signal  of 
departure.  In  the  distance  we  could  see  England,  and  its 
beautiful  ships  that  were  cruising  along  the  coast  seemed 
to  form  an  impenetrable  barrier.  This  grand  spectacle 
gave  us  for  the  first  time  an  illustration  of  an  unknown, 
hitherto  not^reamed-of  power  that  stood  opposed  to  us. 
Here  every  thing  was  calculated  to  excite  the  imagina- 
tion. This  boundless  sea  might  soon  transform  itself  into 
a  battle-field,  and  swallow  up  the  elite  of  the  two  greatest 
nations.    Our  troops,  proud  in  the  feeling  that  there  were 


370  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

no  obstacles  for  them,  made  impatient  by  two  years'  re- 
pose, glowing  with  energy  and  bravery,  already  imagined 
themselves  to  have  attained  the  opposite  coast.  When 
one  considered  their  bravery  and  confidence,  success 
seemed  certain  ;  but  when  the  eye  turned  to  the  impene- 
trable forest  of  masts  on  the  hostile  ships,  a  feeling  of 
anxiety  and  fear  suddenly  took  possession  of  the  heart. 
And  yet  nothing  seemed  to  be  wanting  to  the  expedition 
but  a  favorable  wind. 

"  Of  all  the  homage  that  a  woman  can  receive,  mili- 
tary homage  has  in  the  highest  degree  the  chivalrous 
character,  and  it  is  impossible  not  to  feel  flattered  by  it. 

"  There  could  not  be  any  thing  more  delightful  or 
imposing  than  the  homage  of  which  I  was  here  the  object, 
and  it  was  only  here  that  it  made  any  impression  on  me. 

"  The  emperor  gave  me  as  an  escort  his  equerry.  Gen- 
eral Defrance.  Whenever  I  approached  a  camp  division, 
the  guard  was  called  out  and  presented  arms. 

"  I  had  interceded  for  several  soldiers  who  were  un- 
dergoing punishment  for  breaches  of  discipline,  and  was 
on  this  account  received  everywhere  with  the  liveliest 
enthusiasm.  The  entire  mounted  general  staff  escorted 
my  carriage,  and  my  approach  was  everywhere  hailed  by 
brilliant  music.  It  was  on  such  an  occasion  that  I  saw 
for  the  first  time  the  urn  which  a  grenadier  wore  attached 
to  his  belt ;  I  was  told  that  the  emperor,  in  order  to  do 
honor  to  the  memory  of  the  gallant  Latour  d'Auvergne,* 

*  Latour  d'Auvergne,  a  descendant  of  the  celebrated  Turenne,  was 
known  and  honored  throughout  the  whole  army  on  account  of  the 


FRAGMENT  FROM  MEMOIRS  OF  QUEEN  HORTENSE.  371 

Lad  caused  his  heart  to  be  enclosed  in  a  leaden  casket, 
which  he  had  intrusted  to  the  oldest  soldier  of  the  regi- 
ment, commanding  that  his  name  should  always  be  called 
at  the  roll-caU,  as  though  he  were  present.  He  who  bore 
the  heart  replied  :  *  Dead  on  the  field  of  honor.' 

"  One  day,  a  breakfast  was  given  me  at  the  camp  of 
Ambleteuse.  I  desired  to  go  by  water,  and,  notwith- 
standing a  contrary  wind,  the  admiral  took  me.  I  saw 
the  English  ships,  and  we  passed  so  near  them,  that  they 
might  easily  have  captured  our  yacht.  I  also  visited  the 
Dutch  fleet  commanded  by  Admiral  Yersuelt,  where  I 
was  received  with  great  applause,  the  sailors  little  dream- 
ing that  I  would  be  their  queen  within  the  space  of  a 
year.* 

"  On  another  occasion,  the  emperor  ordered  a  review. 
The  English,  who  felt  disquieted,  by  the  appearance  of  so 
many  troops  drawn  up  before  them,  approached  nearer 
and  nearer  to  our  coasts,  and  even  fired  a  few  cannon- 
shots  at  us ;  the  emperor  was  at  the  head  of  his  French 
columns  when  they  replied  to  these  shots,  and  was  thus 
placed  between  two  fires.     As  we  had  followed  him,  we 


lion-hearted  courage  which  he  had  exhibited  on  so  many  occasions. 
As  he  invariably  declined  the  many  advancements  and  honors  that 
were  tendered  him.  Napoleon  appointed  him  first  grenadier  of  the 
army.  He  fell  in  the  action  at  Neuburg,  and  the  Viceroy  of  Italy, 
Eugene  Beanhamais,  afterward  caused  a  monument  to  be  erected 
there  in  his  memory. 

*  In  order  to  reach  the  harbor  of  Ambleteuse  to  which  they  had 
been  assigned,  the  Dutch  had  first  been  compelled  to  do  battle  with 
the  English  fleet,  and  in  this  combat  they  had  acquitted  themselves 
with  the  greatest  honor. 


372  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

were  now  compelled  to  remain  at  his  side.  To  his  uncle's 
great  joy,  my  son  exhibited  no  symptom  of  fear  whatever. 
But  the  generals  trembled  at  seeing  the  emperor  exposed 
to  such  danger.  The  ramrod  of  some  awkward  soldier 
might  prove  as  dangerous  as  a  ball.  In  the  midst  of  this 
imposing  spectacle,  I  was  struck  with  astonishment  at  the 
contrast  presented  by  the  troops  under  different  circum- 
stances. -When  drawn  up  in  line  of  battle,  they  glowed 
with  gallantry  and  determination,  but,  in  the  days  of  re- 
pose, they  resembled  well-behaved  children,  who  could 
amuse  themselves  with  a  flower  or  a  bird.  The  most 
daring  warrior  was  then  often  converted  into  the  most 
diHgent  and  submissive  scholar. 

"  For  the  breakfast  which  Marshal  Davoust  gave  me 
in  his  tent,  the  grenadiers  had  been  preparing  to  entertain 
us  with  several  songs,  and  came  forward  to  sing  them 
with  the  bashf ulness  of  young  girls.  In  the  most  embar 
rassed  and  timid  manner,  they  sang  a  song  full  of  the 
fiercest  and  most  daring  threats  against  England. 

"  From  the  emperor's  parlor  we  often  saw  the  soldiers 
of  his  guard  assemble  on  the  grass-plot  before  the  castle ; , 
one  of  them  would  play  the  violin  and  instruct  his  com- 
rades in  dancing.  The  beginners  would  study  the  'jetes ' 
and  *  assembles '  with  the  closest  attention  ;  the  more  ad- 
vanced ones  would  execute  a  whole  contre-dance.  From 
behind  the  window -blinds  we  watched  them  with  the 
greatest  pleasure.  The  emperor,  who  often  surprised  us 
at  this  occupation,  would  laugh  with  us  and  rejoice  at  the 
innocent  amusements  of  his  soldiers. 


FRAGMENT  FROM  MEMOIRS  OF  QUEEN  HORTENSE.  37a 

"  Was  this  project  of  a  landing  in  England  really  in- 
tended ?  Or  was  it  the  emperor's  purpose  by  these  enor- 
mous preparations  to  divert  attention  from  other  points,, 
and  fix  it  on  this  one  only  ?  Even  to-day  this  is  a  ques- 
tion which  I  cannot  venture  to  decide ;  here,  as  elsewhere, 
I  only  report  what  I  have  seen. 

"  Madame  Ney  also  gave  me  a  brilHant  festival  at 
Montreuil,  where  her  husband  the  marshal  was  in  com- 
mand. During  the  forenoon  the  troops  were  manoeuvred 
before  me,  in  the  evening  a  ball  took  place.  But  this 
was  suddenly  interrupted  by  the  intelligence  that  the  em- 
peror had  just  embarked. 

"  A  number  of  young  oflBcers,  who  had  been  present 
at  the  ball,  rushed  out  on  the  road  to  Boulogne ;  I  fol- 
lowed them  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning,  escorted  as 
usual  by  General  Defrance,  who  burned  with  impatience 
to  be  again  at  the  emperor's  side.  I  myself  felt  unutter- 
able emotion  at  the  prospect  of  witnessing  so  great  an 
occurrence.  I  imagined  myself  observing  the  battle  from 
the  summit  of  the  tower  that  stood  near  the  emperor's 
tent ;  beholding  our  fleet  advance  and  sink  down  into  the 
waves,  I  shuddered  in  anticipation. 

"  At  last  I  arrived.  I  inquired  after  the  emperor,  and 
learned  that  he  had  actually  attended  the  embarkation  of 
all  his  troops  during  the  night,  but  that  he  had  just  re- 
tnmed  to  his  villa. 

"  I  did  not  see  him  until  dinner,  at  which  he  asked 
Prince  Joseph,  who  was  then  colonel  of  a  regiment, 
whether  he  had  believed  in  this  pretended  embarkation^ 


574  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

and  what  effect  it  had  had  on  the  soldiers.  Joseph  said 
that  he,  like  all  the  world,  had  believed  that  a  departure 
was  really  intended,  and  that  the  soldiers  had  doubted  it 
fio  little  that  they  had  sold  their  watches.  The  emperor 
also  often  asked  if  the  telegraph  had  not  yet  announced 
the  approach  of  the  French  squadron  ;  his  adjutant,  Lau- 
riston,  was  with  the  squadron,  and  the  emperor  seemed 
only  to  be  awaiting  Lauriston's  arrival  and  a  favorable 
wind,  in  order  to  set  sail. 

"  The  eight  days'  absence  accorded  me  by  my  husband 
had  expired,  and  I  took  leave  of  the  emperor.  I  jour- 
neyed through  Calais  and  Dunkirk.  I  saw  troops  defil- 
ing before  me  everywhere  ;  and  with  regret  and  fear 
I  left  this  magnificent  army,  thinking  that  they  might 
perhaps  in  a  few  days  be  exposed  to  the  greatest 
dangers. 

"  At  St.  Amand  we  were  every  day  expecting  to  hear 
of  the  passage  of  our  fleet  to  England,  when  we  sud- 
denly saw  the  troops  arriving  in  our  neighborhood  and 
passing  on  in  forced  marches  toward  the  Khine.  Austria 
had  broken  the  peace.  We  hastened  at  once  to  Paris, 
to  see  the  emperor  once  more  before  his  departure  for 
Germany."  * 

*  La  Reine  Hortense  en  Italic,  France,  etc.,  p.  278. 


THE  PILGRIM.  375 

CHAPTER  XII. 

THE    PILGRIM. 

On  the  following  morning  the  duchess  left  Boulogne 
with  her  son,  in  order  to  wander  on  with  him  through 
the  land  of  her  youth  and  of  her  memories. 

It  was  a  sad  and  yet  heart-stirring  pilgrimage ;  for, 
although  banished  and  nameless,  she  was  nevertheless  in 
her  own  country — she  still  stood  on  French  soil.  For 
sixteen  years  she  had  been  living  in  a  foreign  land,  in  a 
land  whose  language  was  unknown  to  her,  and  whose 
people  she  could  therefore  not  understand.  Now,  on 
this  journey  through  France,  she  rejoiced  once  more  in 
being  able  to  understand  the  conversation  of  the  people 
in  the  streets,  and  of  the  peasants  in  the  fields.  It  was  a 
sensation  of  mingled  bitterness  and  sweetness  to  feel  that 
she  was  not  a  stranger  among  this  people,  and  it  there- 
fore now  afforded  her  the  greatest  delight  to  chat  with 
those  she  met,  and  to  listen  to  their  naive  and  artless 
words. 

As  soon  as  she  arrived  at  her  hotel  in  any  city  or 
village  in  which  she  purposed  enjoying  a  day's  rest, 
Hortense  would  walk  out  into  the  streets  on  her  son's 
arm.  On  one  occasion  she  stepped  into  a  booth,  seated 
herself,  and  conversed  with  the  people  who  came  to  the 
store  to  purchase  their  daily  necessaries;  on  another 
occasion,  she  accosted  a  child  on  the  street,  kissed  it,  and 
inquired  after  its  parents;  then,  again,  she  would  con- 


376  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

verse  with  the  peasants  in  the  villages  about  their  farms^ 
and  the  prospects  of  a  plentiful  harvest.  The  ndivey 
strong,  and  healthy  disposition  of  the  people  delighted 
her,  and,  with  the  smiling  pride  of  a  happy  mother, 
she  showed  her  son  this  great  and  beautiful  family,  this 
French  people,  to  which  they,  though  banished  and  cast 
off,  still  belonged. 

In  Chantilly,  she  showed  the  prince  the  palace  of 
Prince  Conde.  The  forests  that  stood  in  the  neighbor- 
hood had  once  belonged  to  the  queen,  or  rather  they  had 
been  a  portion  of  the  appendage  which  the  emperor, 
since  the  union  of  Holland  and  France,  had  set  apart 
for  her  second  son,  Louis  Napoleon.  Hortense  had 
never  been  in  the  vicinity,  and  could  therefore  visit  the 
castle  without  fear  of  being  recognized. 

They  asked  the  guide,  who  had  shown  them  the  castle 
and  the  garden,  who  had  been  the  former  possessor  of  the 
great  forests  of  Chantilly. 

"  The  step-daughter  of  the  Emperor  ItSTapoleon,  Queen 
Hortense,"  replied  the  man,  with  perfect  indifference. 
"  The  people  continued  to  speak  of  her  here  for  a  long 
time ;  it  was  said  that  she  was  wandering  about  in  the 
country  in  disguise,  but  for  the  last  few  years  nothing 
has  been  heard  of  her,  and  I  do  not  know  what  has  be- 
come of  her." 

"  She  is  surely  dead,  the  poor  queen,"  said  Hortense, 
with  so  sad  a  smile  that  her  son  turned  pale,  and  his  eyes 
filled  with  tears. 

From  Chantilly  they  wandered  on  to  Ermenonville 


THE  PILGRIM.  377 

•and  Morfontaine,  for  Hortense  desired  to  show  her  son 
all  the  places  she  had  once  seen  in  the  days  of  fortune 
with  the  emperor  and  her  mother.  These  places  now 
seemed  as  solitary  and  deserted  as  she  herself  was.  How 
Ijreat  the  splendor  that  had  once  reigned  in  Ermenonville, 
when  the  emperor  had  visited  the  owner  of  the  place  in 
order  to  enjoy  with  him  the  delights  of  the  chase !  In 
the  walks  of  the  park,  in  which  thousands  of  lamps  had 
then  shone,  the  grass  now  grew  rankly;  a  miserable, 
leaky  boat  was  now  the  only  conveyance  to  the  Poplar 
Island,  sacred  to  the  memory  of  Jean  Jacques,  on  whose 
monument  Hortense  and  Louis  Napoleon  now  inscribed 
their  names.  Morfontaine  appeared  still  more  desolate ; 
the  allies  had  sacked  it  in  1815,  and  it  had  not  been 
repaired  since  then.  In  Morfontaine,  Hortense  had  at- 
tended a  magnificent  festival  given  by  Joseph  Bonaparte, 
then  its  owner,  to  his  imperial  brother. 

In  St.  Denis  there  were  still  more  sacred  and  beauti- 
ful remembrances  for  Hortense,  for  here  was  situated  the 
^reat  college  for  the  daughters  of  high  military  officers, 
:>i  which  Hortense  had  been  the  protectress.  She  dared 
not  show  herself,  for  she  well  knew  that  she  was  not 
forgotten  here ;  here  there  were  many  who  still  knew  and 
loved  her,  and  she  could  only  show  herself  to  strangers. 
But  she  nevertheless  visited  the  church,  and  descended 
with  Louis  Napoleon  into  the  vaults.  Louis  XVIII. 
alone  reposed  in  the  halls  which  the  empire  had  restored 
for  the  reception  of  the  new  family  of  rulers,  adopted  by 

France.     Alasl   he  who  built  these  halls,  the  Emperor 
25 


378  QUEEN  HOETENSE. 

Napoleon,  now  reposed  under  a  weeping-willow  on  a 
desolate  island  in  the  midst  of  the  sea,  and  he  who  had 
deposed  him  now  occupied  the  place  intended  for  the 
sarcophagus  of  the  emperor. 

"While  wandering  through  these  silent  and  gloomj 
halls,  Hortense  thought  of  the  day  on  which  she  had 
come  hither  with  the  emperor  to  inspect  the  building 
of  the  church.  And  that  time  she  had  been  ill  and  suf- 
ering,  and  with  the  fullest  conviction  she  had  said  to 
her  mother  that  she.  Queen  Hortense,  would  be  the  first 
that  would  be  laid  to  rest  in  the  vault  of  St.  Denis, 
]^ow,  after  so  many  years,  she  descended  into  it  living 
and  had  hardly  a  right  to  visit  it. 

But  there  was  another  grave,  another  monument  to 
her  memories,  beside  which  Hortense  desired  to  pray. 
This  was  the  grave  of  the  Empress  Josephine,  in  the 
church  at  Ruelle. 

With  what  emotions  did  she  approach  this  place  and 
kneel  down  beside  the  grave-mound !  Of  all  that  Jose- 
phine had  loved,  there  remained  only  Hortense  and  her 
son,  a  solitary  couple,  who  were  now  secretly  visiting 
the  place  where  Hortense's  mother  reposed.  The  num- 
ber of  flowers  that  adorned  the  monument  proved  that 
Josephine  was  at  least  resting  in  the  midst  of  friends, 
who  still  held  her  memory  sacred,  and  this  was  a  consola- 
tion for  her  daughter. 

From  Kuelle  and  its  consecrated  grave  they  wandered 
on  to  Malmaison.  Above  all,  Hortense  wished  to  show 
this  palace  to  her  son !     It  was  from  this  place  that  iNa- 


THE  PILGRIM.  37^ 

poleon  had  departed  to  leave  France  forever!  Here 
Ilortense  had  had  the  pleasure  of  sweetening  for  him, 
by  her  tender  sympathy,  the  moment  when  all  the  world 
had  abandoned  him — the  moment  when  he  fell  from  the 
heights  of  renown  into  the  abyss  of  misfortune.  But, 
alas !  the  poor  queen  was  not  even  to  have  the  satisfac- 
tion of  showing  to  her  son  the  palace,  sacred  to  so  many 
memories  that  had  once  been  her  own !  The  present 
owner  had  given  strict  orders  to  give  admission  to  the 
palace  only  upon  presentation  of  permits  that  must  be 
obtained  of  him  beforehand,  and,  as  Hortense  had  none, 
her  entreaties  were  all  in  vain. 

She  was  cruelly  repelled  from  the  threshold  of  the 
palace  in  which  in  former  days  she  had  been  so  joyfully 
received  by  her  devoted  friends  and  servants ! 

Sorrowfully,  her  eyes  clouded  with  tears,  she  turned 
away  and  returned  to  her  hotel,  leaning  on  her  son's  arm. 

In  silence  she  seated  herself  at  his  side  on  the  stone 
bench  that  stood  before  the  house,  and  gazed  at  the  pal- 
ace in  which  she  had  spent  such  happy  and  momentous 
days,  lost  in  the  recollections  of  the  past ! 

"  It  is,  perhaps,  natural,"  she  murmured  in  a  low 
voice,  "  that  absence  should  cause  those,  who  have  the 
happiness  to  remain  in  their  homes,  to  forget  us.  But, 
for  those  who  are  driven  out  into  foreign  lands,  the  life 
of  the  heart  stands  still,  and  the  past  is  all  to  them  ;  to 
the  exiled  the  present  and  the  future  are  unimportant. 
In  France  every  thing  has  progressed,  every  thing  is 
changed,  I  alone  am  left  behind,  with  my  sentiments  of 


:380  QCTEEN  HORTENSE. 

unchangeable  love  and  fidelity !  Alas !  how  sorrowful 
and  painful  it  is  to  be  forgotten !  *     How — " 

Suddenly  she  was  interrupted  by  the  tones  of  a  piano, 
that  resounded  in  her  immediate  vicinity.  Behind  the 
bench  on  which  they  were  sitting,  were  the  windows  of 
the  parlor  of  the  hotel.  These  windows  were  open,  and 
each  tone  of  the  music  within  could  be  heard  with  the 
greatest  distinctness. 

The  playing  was  now  interrupted  by  a  female  voice, 
which  said :  "  Sing  us  a  song,  my  daughter." 

"  What  shall  I  sing  ? "  asked  another  and  more  youth- 
ful voice. 

"Sing  the  beautiful,  touching  song  your  brother 
brought  you  from  Paris  yesterday.  The  song  of  Del- 
phine  Gay,  set  to  music  by  M.  de  Beauplan." 

"  Ah,  you  mean  the  song  about  Queen  Hortense,  who 
comes  to  Paris  as  a  pilgrim  ?  You  are  right,  mamma,  it 
is  a  beautiful  and  touching  song,  and  I  will  sing  it ! " 

And  the  young  lady  struck  the  keys  more  forcibly, 
and  began  to  play  the  prelude. 

Outside  on  the  stone  bench  sat  she  who  was  once 
Queen  Hortense,  but  was  now  the  poor,  solitary  pilgrim. 
Nothing  remained  to  her  of  the  glorious  past,  but  her 
son,  who  sat  at  her  side !  Hand  in  hand,  both  breathless 
with  emotion,  both  pale  and  tearful,  they  listened  until 
the  young  girl  concluded  her  touching  song. 

*  The  duchess's  own  words.    See  Voyage  en  Italic,  etc.,  p.  305. 


CONCLUSION.  381 

CHAPTER  XIIL 

CONCLUSION. 

This  sorrowful  pilgrimage  was  at  last  at  an  end. 
Hortense  was  once  more  in  her  mountain-home,  in  the 
charming  villa  overlooking  the  Lake  of  Constance,  and 
commanding  a  lovely  view  of  the  majestic  lake,  with  its 
island  and  its  surrounding  cities  and  villages. 

Honor  to  the  Canton  Thurgau,  which,  when  all  the 
world  turned  its  back  on  the  queen  upon  whom  all  the 
governments  and  destiny  alike  frowned — when  even  her 
nearest  relatives,  the  Grand-duke  and  the  Grand-duchess 
Stephanie  of  Baden,  were  compelled  to  forbid  her  resi- 
dence in  their  territory — still  had  the  courage  to  offer 
the  Duchess  of  St.  Leu  an  asylum,  and  to  accord  her,  on 
the  free  soil  of  the  little  republic,  a  refuge  from  which 
the  ill-will  and  distrust  of  the  mighty  could  not  drive  her  I 

In  Arenenberg,  Hortense  reposed  from  her  weariness. 
With  a  bleeding  breast  she  returned  home,  her  heart 
wounded  by  a  fearful  blow,  the  loss  of  a  noble  and  be- 
loved son,  broken  in  spirit,  and  bowed  down  by  the  cold- 
ness and  cruelty  of  the  world,  which,  in  the  cowardly 
fear  of  its  egoism,  had  become  faithless,  even  to  the  holi- 
est and  most  imperishable  of  all  religions,  the  religion  of 
memory ! 

How  many,  who  had  once  vowed  love  and  gratitude, 
had  abandoned  her  I  how  many,  whom  she  had  benefited 
bad  deserted  her  in  the  hour  of  peril  1 


382  QUEEN  HORTENSE. 

In  the  generosity  and  kindliness  of  her  heart,  she 
forgave  them  all;  and,  instead  of  nursing  a  feeling  of 
bitterness,  she  pitied  them!  She  had  done  with  the 
outer  world !  Arenenberg  was  now  her  world — Arenen- 
berg,  in  which  her  last  and  only  happiness,  her  son,  the 
heir  of  the  imperial  name,  lived  with  her — Arenenberg, 
which  was  as  a  temple  of  memory,  in  which  Hortense 
was  the  pious  and  believing  priestess. 

At  Arenenberg  Hortense  wrote  the  sad  and  touching 
story  of  her  journey  through  Italy,  France,  and  Eng- 
land, which  she  undertook,  in  the  heroism  of  maternal 
love,  in  order  to  rescue  her  son.  The  noblest  woman- 
hood, the  most  cultivated  mind,  the  proudest  and  purest 
soul,  speaks  from  out  this  book,  with  which  Hortense  has 
erected  a  monument  to  herself  that  is  more  imperishable 
than  all  the  monuments  of  stone  and  bronze,  for  this 
monument  speaks  to  the  heart — those  to  the  eyes  only. 
Hortense  wrote  this  book  with  her  heart  often  inter- 
rupted by  the  tears  that  dimmed  her  eyes ;  she  concludes 
it  with  a  touching  appeal  to  the  French  people,  which  it 
may  well  be  permitted  us  to  repeat  here ;  it  is  as  follows : 

"  The  renewal  of  the  law  of  exile,  and  the  assimilation 
made  between  us  and  the  Bourbons,  testify  to  the  senti- 
ments and  fears  that  are  entertained  respecting  us.  I^o 
friendly  voice  has  been  raised  in  our  behalf ;  this  indif- 
ference has  doubled  the  bitterness  of  our  banishment ! 
May  they,  however,  still  be  happy — those  who  forget ! 
May  they,  above  all,  make  France  happy !  This  is  my 
prayer  I 


CONCLUSION.  3S3 

"  As  for  the  people,  it  will,  if  it  remembers  its  glory, 
its  grandeur,  and  the  incessant  care  of  which  it  was  the 
object,  ever  hold  our  memory  dear.  This  is  my  firm 
conviction,  and  this  thought  is  the  sweetest  consolation 
of  an  exile,  the  sweetest  consolation  he  can  take  with  him 
to  the  gi*ave  ! "  * 

Hortense  still  lived  a  few  yearfi  of  peaceful  tranquil- 
lity ;  far  from  all  she  loved — far  also  from  the  son  who 
was  her  last  hope,  never  dreaming  that  destiny  had  so 
brilliant  a  future  in  store  for  him,  and  that  Louis  Napo- 
leon, whom  the  Bourbons  had  banished  from  France  as  a 
child,  and  the  Orleans  as  a  youth — that  Louis  Napoleon 
would  one  day  be  enthroned  in  Paris  as  emperor,  while 
the  Bourbons  and  Orleans  languish  in  foreign  lands  as 
exiles ! 

In  the  year  1837,  Hortense,  the  flower  of  the  Bona- 
partes,  died ! 

Weary,  at  last,  of  misfortune,  and  of  the  exile  in 
which  she  languished,  she  bowed  her  head,  and  went 
home  to  her  great  dead — ^home  to  Napoleon  and  Jose- 
phine 1 

♦  Voyage  en  Italie,  etc.,  p.  324. 

(41) 
THE    END. 


YB  53051 


M  1585 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


